Think for Yourself
by Freddo
Summary: Part Three of the AlternateUniverse Rikasha Incident cycle this tale deals with the continuation of the RikashanR'Khell invasion of the Solar System in 2202. NOTE: Ch. 3 just revised slightly thanks to a review a bit more Wildstar & Nova fluff added!
1. Chapter 1

**ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE**

**STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF**

**Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz**

* * *

**ACT ONE-MISSION OF MERCY**

_"The strangest thing about the Rikashans that our historical research has been able to discover is that, well, they are a people of many contradictions. They long for a Heaven of green grass and warm beaches but they sing songs and write poems to their Mother, the Desert. They are a religious and ethical people with beautiful scriptures but some of their sects have sacrificed sentient beings to their gods. They sing both of Eternal Life and of Ji'hads of death. In our day, they have been at peace with the major worlds for four hundred years and at war for just as long a time. It is said that a Rikashan will take a homeless man in off the street to share kaf, their strong coffee-like drink, one day and the next morning they might receive a message from their deities to torture him to death. It has never been as bad since the First Ji'had of eight centuries ago, but, still, dealing with a Rikashan can be treacherous, even dangerous, almost as dangerous as dealing with a Free Space Trader. The bards say it may be well to have eyes in the back of one's head when one speaks with a Rikashan clan noble or leader. Perhaps this is still wise advice."--Grasnen the Cynic._

_The Encyclopaedia Galactica--Anecdotes of the Great Travelers-Tenth Edition, 2976_

* * *

**I. JOURNEY TO THE _WESTHAMPTON__ BEACH_**

**Medevac Boat attached to Space Battleship _Argo_**

**Vicinity of the Moons of Neptune**

**January 10, 2202--0228 Hours-Space Time**

"Together again," said Ensign Paul Hemsford, the leader of the _Argo's _new Marine Group, as he leaned against the pilot's seat of the Medevac craft that he, Nova, and their assistants were in.

"Yes, we are," sighed Nova. "Just like on that exercise a few weeks ago in Quantico, remember?" She smiled for a moment as she noticed two more Medevac shuttles going past; one was from the _Argo,_ and the other was from Triton Base.

"What happened then, sir?" asked a Marine Sergeant named Vic Wallchinsky.

"You don't wanna know," said Hemsford. "She and her sneaky little bunch captured me."

"Really?" asked Wallchinsky.

"Really," said IQ-9. "I read the action reports."

"What did they say?" asked Wallchinsky.

"Yeah, what did they say?" piped in Ensign James Felton, the boat pilot who was flying.

"You don't want to know," said IQ-9. "However, Nova _does_ look pretty in green camouflage face-paint."

"That's enough, tinwit!" snapped Nova.

"You think we're going to have a chance to see what those damn aliens look like?" demanded Hemsford.

"I hope not," shrugged Felton.

"What? You're_ yellow_?" asked Hemsford with a grin.

"No. I've heard they're ugly. I don't like ugly."

"Whatever," said Hemsford, who took a moment to pop off his helmet, exposing his bald, shiny pate and dark brown African-American features. "You think _I'm _ugly?" he joshed.

"Tough, yes. Ugly, no."

"Ensign Hemsford, you are _not_ ugly," said Nova firmly.

"Great," smiled Hemsford. "Thanks."

"However, God rest his soul, Sergeant Knox _was_ sort of ugly," said Nova. "Of course, he was a brave fighter and he went down...well...fighting."

"Keep on talking like that, and even though we've been part of the EDF since before you were in diapers, ma'am, the Corps will never forgive you," smiled Hemsford. "Ma'am?" he asked, noticing how Nova's facial expression had dropped. "You okay?"

"Yes...I'm okay...I think," said Nova. "I'm just remembering how Knox died."

"Yeah...he had a tough break," said Hemsford. "You found him in his plane right after he crash-landed back on the _Argo_?"

"Yes...I did. The sight...wasn't pretty."

"War never is pretty, ma'am."

"I know...You're not going to call me a space jockey, are you?" asked Nova.

"You're a lady with a pretty face and a good officer, ma'am," said Hemsford. "However, on the other hand, your husband..."

"Don't you say _anything_ about Derek," snapped Nova with a smile.

"You take back whatcha said about Knox, I'll take back what I'm about to say about your husband. Deal?"

"Deal," said Nova. "Do we need to shake on it, Paul?"

"Nawww...your word's okay..._space jockey_," grinned Hemsford.

"Okay..._jarhead_," smiled Nova.

"I think you two are even," said IQ-9. "Neither of you make any sense at all. By the way, the liner's up ahead. It doesn't look good."

"No, it doesn't," whistled Felton.

The _Westhampton Beach_ was, indeed, a smoking wreck.

"How could anybody be alive on that wreck?" asked Hemsford out loud.

"Believe it or not, I _am _reading life signs," said IQ-9. "However, they are very faint. Blocking out the alien life-signs, which are a bit different because their body temperatures are lower than ours, I read that most of the humans on board seem to be injured. We don't have a lot of time, Nova."

"Felton, put us down in that landing bay over there," ordered Nova from the boat's co-pilot seat. "The time is now 0250. We'd better move as quickly as we can before those fires spread."

* * *

**II. ANOTHER BATTLE**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**Vicinity of the Moons of Neptune**

**January 10, 2202--0251 Hours-Space Time**

"Okay," said Venture. "Wildstar, we've sent in two Medevac boats, and two landing boats with most of the rest of Hemsford's Marines on board, as well as some of our spare gunners, sent in as Troopers. The base is sending in two more Medevac boats and two more landing boats."

"How many survivors will that leave room for?"

"About sixty or seventy, Captain," replied Venture. "However, IQ-9's analysis of the ship told us that forty people are left alive on that ship at most."

"How many people could that liner hold?" asked Parsons from her post.

"Our record states that her maximum crew and passenger complement were 450," said Sandor. "Fifty crew members and four hundred passengers at best. I don't know if the ship was fully booked or not, though. It was supposed to be her maiden voyage."

Wildstar got up and began to walk towards Sandor's post. Before he could further examine his readouts, however, the ship tilted under them and the thrum of one explosion hit, followed by another.

"We've taken a torpedo hit!"

"Confirmed," said Ensign Carl Chafer, who was at the cosmo-radar, which he was manning in Nova's absence. "And the other hit on the stern came from four objects behind us, eleven megameters off starboard. Switching to visual."

Derek ran over to Dash's post and said, "Dash, all hands to battle stations! Venture, bring us about a hundred and eighty degrees. Dash, you and Rosstowski open all guns. Who's on patrol?"

"Conroy's and Hartmann's squadrons, sir, " said Dash.

"Good. Homer, order Conroy to sweep the area, for more ships. We're getting those other four. Then, order Hartmann to get ready to get that last sub, and fast."

A moment later, Wildstar looked up. "Sandor, these are different ships. Two are larger than those subs, but smaller than that space fortress, and these are red, too. The other two are smaller, and are also red. Battleships and escorts, Sandor?"

"The battleships look to be about the same size as the _Argo_, but more lightly armed," said Sandor as the _Argo_ turned. "Battle cruisers, maybe?"

"If they are, well, we're going to teach them a lesson!" barked Wildstar. "Status, Dash?"

"Ready to fire!" barked Dash.

"One-hundred and eighty degree turn completed," said Venture.

"We are now just within firing range," added Ensign Chafer. "Distance to enemy: ten megameters!"

"Great!" said Wildstar as he nodded in Dash's direction.

Dash responded with the command, "All guns, OPEN FIRE!"

And, at that, the _Argo_'s forward gun turrets began to reply to the mysterious enemy's rude wake-up call with several impressive blue plasma energy surges of their own.

The _Argo_'s fire blasted straight into the heart of the squadron. Two of the beams blew apart one of the destroyers, while the rest of them converged in a mighty surge that ripped through one of the enemy battlecruisers like a knife through hot butter, blasting it apart in a spectacular ball of flame.

"Missiles approaching!" yelled Parsons. "It must be from that sub!"

"Checking back five minutes with the Time Radar, no sign of the vessel submerging, can't track it!" barked Chafer from the Cosmo-Radar.

"Damn!" yelled Wildstar. "All hands, brace for impact!"

As usual, the _Argo_ took several hits, but she came out of the blast unbowed and ready to give back as much as she took...which she did as soon as her guns fired again.

_I'm not so concerned, we can take damage, _thought Wildstar_. But what about that liner? They're not going to last for ten minutes unless we can stop this blizzard._

Wildstar then ran over to Homer's post. "Connect me to Conroy," he said.

Homer nodded and did so.

"Conroy!" he ordered. "Keep your fighter screen up over the ship and order Hartmann to go out and hit those cruisers."

"Roger," replied Conroy. "Hartmann!" he snapped. "Go out and get those ships and order six of your planes to go out and cover the rescue parties."

"We'll give it our best shot, sir" she replied. _Even though I'm flying a replacement plane that's a bit beat-up,_ she thought to herself. "Six of you, break off and cover the landing boats. As for the rest of us... let's go in and kick some butt!"

At that, Laurel and her wingmen blasted in towards the battlecruisers. Their missiles blazed as they homed in on one of the battlecruisers and began to rip it apart like a holiday turkey.

Before long, the enemy vessel was nothing but a blazing wreck, along with another one of the battlecruisers that the rest of the squadron had attacked.

Satisfied with their lethal work, Hartmann ordered a second attack run.

However, things were not going near as smoothly near the _Westhampton Beach_ herself.

* * *

On the liner, video gossip columnist Constance Rademacher had been holding an interview with a famous pop music star, with the assistance of a young reporter known as Keri McCullough.

At least it had been that way before the attack had begun. But now, there had been several explosions on the vessel, and it looked like half the people in the area were dead. She heard only moans from Constance, and her pop star subject was certainly dead.

But, her camera was still running. She found herself in an unexpected role: hard news reporter, even though she didn't like it.

"This is Keri McCullough...news reporter...even though I don't want to be," said the young girl as the smoke cleared on the _Westhampton Beach_.

"I hope this is going out," she cried over the airwaves. On Earth, a surprised and frightened Karl and Teri Forrester (Nova's parents) watched the TV in their kitchen, since Karl had arrived home early in Boulder from a conference at his law firm in the central district of the Megalopolis.

The Forresters had been watching a late, late movie, but, instead, this news report had just come on. "We're still on the _Westhampton Beach_, although I don't know how much longer we will be. Kyle Argent, one of my assistants, is holding the camera on me, and I'm...I'm holding J.W. Peters in my arms," she cried. Kyle roughly turned the camera towards the pop star's still form, halfway covered with blood from the waist up, where a huge piece of metal protruded from his stomach. "My producer, and poor J. W. they're all bloody...bloody...and I can't get a pulse. J.W.'s eyes are fixed open, and he's not responding to anything! I think he's dead! I've yelled out to Constance, but all she can do is moan."

"We're...we're not in the best of shape ourselves..." cried Keri over the noise of another blast in the liner's innards as another one of the mysterious torpedoes that came from nowhere slammed into it. Her picture faded in a burst of static that still left the network's hastily superimposed red SPECIAL REPORT-- LIVE title up on screen for a second before she reappeared again. "And...I just saw one..."

"Two, stupid!" yelled Rex as he looked at a ball of flame outside. The frigate _Isoroku Yamamoto_, which had been trying to offer assistance as it came in towards the base, had been caught with its pants down by the enemy sub, which promptly finished her off.

"That's another vessel down," said the sub's Captain. "Now, for that damned liner..."

"_Haruenda_, prepare to break off attack; I have assumed command of the area battle," said a strange voice.

"I am Commander Daruell, operational survivor of this attack," snapped the R'Khell officer in charge of the last sub. Who are you?"

"Admiral Kierzden, Fourth Sacred Attack Corps. I have assumed command. Launch two more pods of troopers and then pull out. Before we finish off that sub, I want prisoners, for information and for a profit at the slave markets."

"Yessir," said Daruell. "All hands, we are changing the operation. Submerge!"

At that, the _Haruenda's_ periscope disappeared back down into hyperspace.

* * *

"No one..." sobbed Keri. "I mean...one...of our spaceships...our gunboats...frigates...whatever...have just been blown apart by these people. They were trying to help! Where are they? **_When are we gonna get rescued?_**" she screamed as her image faded again in a loud, final burst of static.

It didn't reappear again.

* * *

"Karl...isn't poor Nova out there someplace?" cried Teri Forrester back on Earth.

"I think so...she said they were on that special training mission..."

"I hope they're not in trouble out there!"

"Teri, for the sake of those people, let's hope Nova, Derek, and their shipmates are out there. We just can't think of ourselves at a time like this..."

Teri bit her lip sadly and nodded, knowing that Karl was right. In spite of the quarrel she had been through with her eldest daughter a few days after the wedding over Yvona and her prior relationship with Derek, she still loved her dearly.

On TV, a hastily summoned news announcer said, "We have lost contact with the _Westhampton Beach_...and all attempts to restore our live feed have been unsuccessful. We have no idea what has become of the vessel...and..."

He was interrupted by a young lady who ran up and handed him a teletype printout. "This...dispatch came from our telex...in a couple of minutes, at exactly 4:00 AM, the Federation will have an information officer up in a live briefing from Earth Defense Headquarters in the Great Megalopolis. She will be able to report on the measures that are now being taken by the Defense Forces to neutralize this threat and rescue the passengers and crew of the _Westhampton Beach_. Also, they are considering suspending all commercial space traffic until further notice. That's all I have for you at this point..."

"Karl! This is horrible!" yelled Teri as she shook her head in panic. "What can our Defense Forces do about this?"

"I'm sure they're trying to do everything they can, Teri," said Karl as he took a deep breath.

* * *

**III. THE BATTLE RAGES**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**Vicinity of the Moons of Neptune**

**January 10, 2202--0312 Hours-Space Time**

* * *

Aboard the _Argo_, the ship's gunners were quite busy as the battle raged around them.

"Okay, guys. Once again...stand fast!" snapped Densbury.

"You always say that, sir," said Sergeant Rodham Maxwell, who was in his usual place at the center gun. "Did the angle change?"

"Nope," said Tech Sergeant David Norris, who was, as usual, manning the port side gun next to Maxwell. "Hey, Mike," he yelled. "What about you?"

"Negative, Dave," replied Tech Sergeant Mike Garrand from the starboard side gun.

As the turret crew awaited new orders, the turret speaker suddenly came on, and Paul Rosstowski's voice came over the speaker, stating, "Main Turret Number Two, correct gun angle by plus one point five two degrees."

"Roger that," barked Densbury. "Crew, correct angle by plus one point five two."

"Acknowledged," barked Norris as the two blurred video images that represented the two halves of the target met. They were aiming at one battlecruiser and its escorting destroyer. "Correction completed, sir." _That Rosstowski, _he thought,_ getting to be an officer in a battlefield promotion when Ensign Shandling bought it last year during the Comet Empire thing. Lucky stiff! I wonder how he likes it? Damn, I miss being back in number three with him__Gotta talk to him later and see how he likes it up there in officer's country as compared to being down here, he thought. I'll bet it's a more glamour-filled job up there._

As usual, from his station behind Maxwell, Norris, and Garrand, Ensign Densbury quickly pushed a button that sent a "Green" signal up to the Artillery and Combat stations on the first bridge as he said, "Sir, all guns are on target!" As soon as he did that, the three gunners sat waiting with their fingers on the green firing buttons at their stations.

"All guns ready and on target," barked Rosstowski over the speaker.

"FIRE!" barked Dash a moment later on his circuit.

A cheer went up in the turret as soon as the two of the beams of energy ripped through the battlecruiser. At the same time, one blasted through the destroyer. Both enemy warships then went up in bright balls of flame.

"Sir," said Dash on the bridge. "All turrets were right on target: we scored three hits."

"Confirmed," said Parsons from her post. "One cruiser and two destroyers just disappeared from my scope, sir."

"Where are the others?" asked Wildstar.

"They're still coming," said Holly Parsons. "Range, seven point two megameters."

"Correct firing angles," snapped Dash.

"All gunners correct angles by another plus one degree," said Rosstowski.

In the turrets, Densbury and the others soon re-trained the guns, and, a moment later, the _Argo_'s main guns fired yet another salvo at the enemy fleet.

Soon, the _Argo_'s fusillades, combined with Hartmann's attack runs, whittled the enemy fleet down to two battlecruisers and three destroyers.

"They're down to five, now. Distance, four megameters, " said Chafer. "They're getting in close."

"Too close," said Parsons. "Now at three megameters. Speed...just ten space knots. I don't think they like what we did very much," she added with a little smile.

"Dash, aim the guns for one last time," snapped Wildstar. "Let's finish them off."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Hold it!" said Chafer. "Those guys are turning around! They're picking up speed...I think they're trying to make a run for it! Speed, fifteen, range, five...now it's five-point three!"

"We can still get them, sir," offered Rosstowski. "They're still in range and we can hit them with a quick turret correction."

"Wildstar, should we pursue?" asked Venture.

"Hold off...let's see what the situation is," said Wildstar.

"Captain, I'm picking up another SOS from the liner," said Homer. "It's very weak this time. Trying to decipher it."

"We'd better go assist the liner and cover our landing parties," said Sandor. "We can get those ships later."

"All right," said Wildstar. "Dash, break off the attack and call in Hartmann and the second element of her squadron and order the other two elements to join up with Conroy's squadron as we approach! Venture, take us towards the _Westhampton Beach_. I want us to stop one hundred kilometers away from the ship."

"Break off the attack, Ensign," said Dash as he looked back towards Rosstowski.

"Yessir. Gun crews, we're breaking off, stand by," said Paul.

"Okay, changing course to R-341," said Venture. "Thirty degrees to port, full speed!"

* * *

As the raid went on, the atmosphere aboard the enemy command ship, a large spacecraft carrier that was sitting over near the asteroid ring between Pluto and Brumus, grew rather somber. The reason was the news coming in from the remaining destroyers and battlecruisers that the raid had gone seriously wrong.

The R'Khell/Rikashan command ship was a large spacecraft carrier known as the _T'Renda_, and its commander, Admiral Kierzden, was very worried right now as he sat on his large command bridge. It wasn't because he felt his own warship lacked for anything; if he needed a reminder of his carrier's raw strength, all he needed to do was to glance around his huge command bridge. The austere dark red grid-like deck and the bridge's operating stations, which bristled with screens, controls, and exposed cables, all underscored one general impression; this ship, like its people, was built and bred for combat and destruction. Kierzden certainly wasn't worried about the capabilities of his ship, no, not at all.

Kierzden was worried about his own priestly warrior's honor because his squadron was being beaten in an operation that he thought would be easy, in spite of the words of his superior, Baron Anton Cha'rif, who had warned him not to undertake this raid without permission from headquarters on Rikasha.

Of course, Cha'rif didn't know about the Technomugar battle fortresses that had been part of his fleet until a few hours ago. Now, they were both gone, and Kierzden felt nervous. _That madman cyborg named Gralnacz was an emissary from the Lord Ekogaru himself, or so he claimed,_ thought Kierzden. _Now, for whatever reason, he's defeated, and I'm out here without orders from either Rikasha or the priestly hierarchy on R'Khelleva, our sacred world of Temples. If we don't have a victory, and Baron Cha'rif questions my actions or comes calling, it'll probably be my head. And I'd rather die in battle than be decapitated,_ thought Kierzden gloomily.

His Fourth Cruiser Squadron was just part of Cha'rif's overall task force, which was known as Battle Task Force III. His Task Force, in turn, was just part of the Fourth Sherikhan Group, the vast Rikashan starfleet that had been assigned to guard the area around the planet Pellias in the Beta Valentis System and its environs.

He had detached himself from the main force without orders when his fleet had encountered Gralnacz's space fortresses out near Arcturus...and Gralnacz had began the conversation by speaking to him in his own language. Believing Gralnacz to be a prophet, he had decided to enter his service, especially since he seemed to know a great deal about this star system. It seemed like a wise move at the time, but now it seemed to be a foolish move. This was giving the balding R'Khell commander a major headache.

"Why, Captain?" raged Kierzden as he looked up at his video panel at Captain Shandlai, the ranking commander of what was left of the Fourth battlecruiser squadron. "How did that accursed old ship beat Commandant Major Disla so badly? Gralnacz told us it was junk!"

"Sir, they had superior tactics and firepower. Disla was able to damage them by staying back, but when the _Argo_ was able to get in close enough to engage, its guns chopped the rest of the squadron into pabulum! They didn't seem to care that it was many ships against one! They just held on through our barrage until they finished us off! I had to run for my life!"

"And what are you doing alive?" sneered Kierzden.

"Sir? I wanted to be...of further service to the Empire and the Warbringer, our Dark Lord! By the Gods...I wanted to..."

"Enough babble from you, you idiot!" roared the red-tunicked R'khell cleric-admiral at his younger, wavy-haired inferior. "If you want to be of further service to the Empire, turn about and join up with Admiral Varnava near location 35. If the rest of the EDF didn't catch up with him yet, you can make the rendezvous in just twelve _kannen_. Then, I can attack the _Argo_ with my planes. Got that?"

"Yes, but..."

"Do as I ordered! Then, you might prove to be worth something after all, since you didn't fight until the death, as we demanded. Do you understand?"

"Yessir."

"Good. That will be all for now. Do your duty."

At that, Kierzden cut off the transmission.

"Earth's accursed Star Force..." he hissed. "Now I know why Gralnacz hates you so damned much!"

* * *

**IV. RESCUE ATTEMPT**

**Near the _Westhampton Beach_**

**Vicinity of the Moons of Neptune**

**January 10, 2202--0318 Hours-Space Time**

* * *

Things had been bad aboard the _Westhampton Beach_ beforehand, but now, a new element had been introduced to the game with the two attack pods launched from the R'Khell submarine _Haruenda_. Vishell Ka'mok, the commander of this raiding party (and a slaver himself back on R'Khelleva) had been in psychic communication with his fellow R'jkharrazim aboard the subs, and they had told him there was some holy profit to be made. Daruell's orders fit nicely into this general plan. So, a few minutes later, two boarding pods slammed into the hull of the stricken ship about a minute before Lieutenant Nova Wildstar's party landed on the ship along with Hemsford and the rest of his Marines and corpsmen.

The pods slammed into the stricken liner not far from one of the berthing decks.

One of them slammed into the hull of the ship not far from a corridor leading to the twin cabin suite that Jonathan Hartnell-Iiyama had been sharing with his sister Michelle and his parents.

The panicked boy had just been separated from his sister when more of the bulkheads in the area had collapsed. He had no idea if she was alive or not as he ran towards the bridge to look for his parents, huffing, puffing, and freezing in only his pajama bottoms and flip-flops since the ship's temperature was dropping due to the failure of many of the atmospheric control units. It was actually a good thing that this section of the liner still had some heat, air and gravity. Otherwise, Jonathan mig_ht _have already joined many of his fellow passengers in death.

_Please God, please let Mom and Dad still be alive, _he thought as he looked into the liner's bridge.

What he saw there was chaos. The Captain and most of the crew were dead...and, as he noticed with horror, his father seemed to be dead, too. Sadly, that section was empty, although the chairs had been torn apart by some force.

"Dad?" he cried. "DADDY?"

The boy tiptoed closer. He looked down at his father's body and promptly felt very ill.

With a scream, he ran back down the stairs to the main corridor, and tripped over his mother.

She was lying face-up on the carpeted deck, staring at the overhead light with eyes that were too wide, fixed, and far too vacant for her to still be alive. Her dress had been partially torn off, and the exposed parts of her body were covered with blood.

"Mommy?" he cried as he ran over. "MOMMMY?" he cried as he shook his limp, unresponsive mother. "Wake up! _Please_! Are you dead? NO!"

"Damned right she's dead, you stinking pile of SCUM! " yelled a rough voice that suddenly came from down the corridor.

"Who...?"

Then, the alien raider who had recently murdered his mother was upon him like a demon from hell. The figure was a bit over two meters tall, so tall that his head brushed the overhead of the corridor. He was clad in dark blue armor with bits of red trim, and looked like a faceless monster or type of robot to Jonathan, since his helmet and its ugly facemask entirely obscured his features.

The R'Khell warrior soon had Jonathan in a neckhold in the crook of one of his massive armor-plated arms that was horribly effective. Of course, the fact that the enemy trooper was slowly crushing Jonathan's crotch with his other hand wasn't helping much, either.

"You stop that, scum, or I'll shove your cursed _cuyones_ up into your guts," hissed the invader in a guttural voice that Jonathan recognized as being filtered through an artificial breathing system and comm speaker that was somewhere inside his battle armor. "Or maybe I should cut 'em off with my blade instead! Was that lady important to you, lad?"

"She was my MOTHER, you monster!"

"Guess what, kid. She was a load of fun before I finished her off! You gonna stop struggling, or do I have to cut thine throat out?"

"Where are you from? Are you a Gamilon?"

"HELL no!" raged the invader. "I'm not one of their scurvy blue maggot-ridden breed! Thank the Gods! I'm a R'Khell, boy, and you're a pain in the ass! I'll show you my face now, child, to shut you UP!"

At that, the enemy trooper, who was named Kranel, pulled back his face visor, which tilted up on its helmet. What Jonathan saw was a huge, muscular, snarling face covered with skin nearly the same tone as his, although it looked slightly orange. The trooper had strange, narrowed, green-on-green eyes, a huge nose that the boy guessed had once been broken, and his right cheek and his forehead were marked with huge, ugly scars. He had only a short haircut, and he had a huge beetle-brow that made him look a bit like a caveman or ape-man of the sort he had learned about in school.

"How do you know our language?" cried Jonathan, hoping he could distract this alien monster long enough for help to come. It didn't seem to work, though, as the huge trooper pushed him out into the smoky passage, not breaking his fierce lock upon the boy's bare arms.

"Our Gifted Ones learned it from our allies elsewhere in the galaxy," growled Kranel in a deep voice that somehow sounded even uglier without the facemask down. "Then, in turn, the almighty sorcerers used their guiles to force the vowels and consonants of your tongue into our heads, just as we shall force thy rotten tongue to speak Rikashan when we're done with yea!"

"Rikashan. Is that what you are?"

"Bless the Gods, NO! I'm of the R'Khell master race, not of those alien radiation-scarred mutants called Rikashans, even though I speak the Imperial tongue. I'm named Kranel. You'll meet me properly when we get to my ship, scum!"

"Then?" squeaked Jonathan.

"Then I'll beat the crap out of yea for asking me so damned many QUESTIONS!" snapped Kranel, punctuating his outburst with a cruel slap to the side of Jonathan's head that made the boy's right ear begin to ring. "Resistance is USELESS! I'll..."

"DROP him, sucka!" yelled another voice in the smoke through another filter.

Jonathan was promptly dropped as the snarling Kranel reached for his weapon.

The boy hit the deck very hard, landing on his butt as one of his thongs flew off his bare foot into the smoke.

What happened then was very fast and confusing, but Jonathan would remember it for the rest of his days.

Jonathan's head hit the deck hard enough for him to see stars. When he landed, he saw the massive Kranel's crotch looming up over him as he drew a big hand weapon of some type.

Jonathan promptly kept his head down as a blue laser bolt whizzed in from the other direction, missing his head by centimeters as it ricocheted against the metal bulkhead to his right. He guessed they had been aiming at Kranel, but had missed.

Jonathan picked up his head again in just enough time to notice his R'Khell tormentor snarling and firing at his shadowy enemies.

From what Jonathan could make out of his would-be rescuers before the shot caused them to duck behind a U-shaped support beam that towered like an archway over part of the elegant brushed aluminum facade of the passage, there were two of them. One was massive and in a green uniform, and the other was very slight and dressed in gold with black markings and a bright red helmet.

Then, Jonathan watched transfixed as their heads and firing arms came around the beam and pumped two more shots at Kranel. Jonathan knew enough about weapons to recognize their arms for a moment; the green-clad one was carrying an AK-01 assault pulse laser rifle, while the one in gold had a weapon that was definitely an Astro-Automatic pistol.

Jonathan's eyes went wide as he suddenly noticed more of the form of the rescuer in gold. _Holy Moley, it's a **girl**! _he said to himself. _And that looks like a Star Force uniform! What's the Star Force doing here?_

One of the shots hit Kranel's armor, ripping it open near the waist with a hiss of melting metal which made the huge raider scream like mad for a second. He almost hit the deck, but Jonathan was stunned to see that the ugly enemy trooper just staggered back to his feet. Then, he blasted three more of those nasty green surges of energy at them, just as the green-clad one (whom Jonathan now recognized as a Space Marine) fired another shot at him. Jonathan noticed that the girl, who came all the way around for a moment to get a good bead on her tormentor, followed him.

After she fired, her dark brown eyes scanned Jonathan's and widened under her clear helmet visor as they met for a second through the smoke and haze.

_Could that be Nova Wildstar? _Jonathan mused as she tapped the Marine's arm and cried_, "HEMSFORD?"_

"Ma'am?"

"Careful about that fire near the deck! He's got a little boy down between his legs!"

"A rugrat, ma'am?"

"Yes! Cover me while I make a run for it! I've got to get him!"

"Ma'am, you're NUTS! That alien mother is twice your size and a thousand times uglier...uh...meaning' you're a thousand times prettier, of course, ma'am!"

"Thanks for the compliment, Paul, but...he's..."

"RAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!" screamed Kranel as he fired at his opponents three more times, and then kicked a flashing red panel that Jonathan suddenly noticed was a few meters down from the archway, not far from where they were.

Some mechanism went off, and a heavy blast door began to drop down between Kranel, Hemsford, and Nova.

Jonathan guessed what was up, and the boy tried to make a run towards his Star Force rescuers.

Sadly, Kranel caught him by the seat of his pajama bottoms and pulled him back just centimeters away from the blast door and Nova's grasping hands.

The last thing Jonathan heard before Kranel knocked him out with the butt of his weapon was Hemsford yelling "oh, DAMMMN, man!"

Then, as usual in those instances, Jonathan heard nothing more as he passed out. Then, a laughing and whooping Kranel hauled him away like a sack of frozen hash browns from the local McClellan's Mini Mart.

* * *

**V. RESCUE ATTEMPT (Continued)**

**The wreck of the _Westhampton Beach_.**

**January 10, 2202--0332 Hours-Space Time.**

* * *

"What was that sound?" asked Nova. "Oh, God, what's he _doing_ to that poor little boy?"

"_Damnit_, ma'am!" bellowed Hemsford as he kicked the door. "That ugly son-of-a..."

"Ensign...can you find a way to flip this open without hurting whomever might be on the other side?" cried Nova.

"Maybe I could hot-wire it if we find a switchbox!"

"Nova?" said Ensign Starkey, the leader of the other Marine Group squad, over her headset. "Did you find anyone down there?"

"One little boy who was captured by the enemy. But the enemy trooper put up a good fight and shut that blast hatch in our faces before I could get to him."

"Was he alive?" asked Starkey.

"Yes," said Nova with eyes squeezed shut. She was trying to keep from crying in sheer anger and frustration.

"Which way was he headed?"

"Back up towards the promenade deck, Starkey!" cried Nova.

"Okay, we'll try to get Mister Ugly twenty-five up there when we get Uglies twenty-nine through thirty-two. Hopefully, we can free the poor kid. Place is swarming with these big ugly bastards! Hemsford! Did you get to the observation deck yet, Chief?"

"Negative," said Hemsford. "Who's up there?"

"Keri McCullough from the holovid network. She's screaming all over the third comm circuit for help. Can you get to her?"

"We'll be there in a minute," said Nova. "Where's IQ-9 gotten to? We were separated when we got in here in the aft shuttle deck from the Medevac boat."

"How?"

"More of these big alien troopers shooting at us."

"They're in blue, ma'am. Could they be a new kind of Gamilons?"

"No, the armor looks different. It's blue and Gamilons never used markings like THESE. Most of their troopers always wore brown armor. And, at any rate, they're much bigger than Gamilons," said Nova.

"And way uglier," snapped Hemsford. "They _sound _like UGLY jackasses, at any rate."

"What do you think they are? The ship needs a report, and I know you guys are being jammed down below."

"Tom," said Nova, referring to Starkey, "tell Derek I think they could be warriors of some type who must've been genetically altered to be more massive and strong than ordinary humans...or men from a heavy-gravity planet of some kind. Can't talk more now. We have to get to Keri and any other survivors before this ship blows. Over and out."

"Ma'am, whatcha want me to do?" asked Hemsford.

"You're staying with me. I need backup, Hemsford. We're going up two decks to where we left the others," said Nova.

"Let's go now, ma'am."

"Okay."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF

Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz

* * *

ACT TWO---A RUNNING BATTLE

NOTE: Derek Wakefield has graciously granted permission to use two of his characters--namely **Dac and Anya Windfield**--in this installment of this tale. Full credits are given at the end of this Installment.

* * *

I. FIGHTING THE GRIM REAPER

The wreck of the _Westhampton Beach_.

January 10, 2202--0340 Hours-Space Time.

* * *

"_God almighty_," whispered Sergeant Wallchinsky when Nova and Hemsford got to the observation deck. "Ma'am, any life signs in here? This place is a mess."

"You can say that again, Vic," said Hemsford as he walked over a child's discarded doll. "What the hell did they do here? Rape and pillage?"

Nova picked up the doll and shook her head. "If, by any chance, those aliens hurt children in that way…well, they'd better not run into _me_, that's for damn sure," she snapped, surprising the men with the burst of profanity. "God, what happened _here?_" she asked as she stepped over a body.

IQ-9 turned a light upon it and Nova almost retched for a moment.

The body was that of a woman in her early fifties in a tweed suit with a short skirt. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear. In one dead hand, she was holding a microphone.

The face was quite dead and pale, the eyes staring unseeing at the overhead. "Do you know who this is?" whispered Nova.

IQ-9 replied. "Constance Rademacher, video personality, reporter, and gossip columnist. She must have been taping a story for the Federal Communications Network aboard the ship. From my analysis, the body shows severe signs of trauma."

"What a horrible sight, My God," murmured Nova. "These raiders are horrible! Killing for no reason…"

Nova grabbed a loose curtain and covered up the corpse and then stood for a moment with a bowed head. Even though she knew that Rademacher had recently written a gossip column not complementary to herself and Derek after their wedding, Nova thought, _For all she's done…she didn't deserve to die like that…_ "IQ-9?" asked Nova as she turned to the _Argo_'s analysis robot. "Can you scan this compartment? Tell me if they left _anyone_ alive in here, for God sakes?"

"I'm doing it Nova. Scanning," he said as the lights on his head bleeped. "I detect some life signs, but they're very, very faint."

"Is there a chance...?"

"I'm not reading much from these, Nova." he replied sadly. "These people over here are already dead," he said as he scanned the corpses of the bulk of the FCN holovid production crew. The signs I'm picking up are from inside that mass of debris over there to port."

"What a shame they're dead," said Shandai, another one of the medics who had accompanied the rescue party in.

"Yeah," said Wallchinsky sadly as the ship quivered again thanks to the impact of another explosion.

Nova stared at the corpses for a moment. Some of them looked male, while others were female. Only one was face-up; a young man, it seemed, with longish dark hair and extremely fine features. He was holding what was left of a video camera in his burned hands. Judging from the grimace on his face, though, his death hadn't been pleasant.

Nova quickly averted her glance to IQ-9's head as he continued to scan. It was a much more pleasant sight than the rest of this butcher shop.

After a moment, he said..."LOOK! I've localized the readings to that pile of chairs in front of us! There must have been an explosion from that bulkhead."

"Or the aliens shot at them," said Nova sadly. "I wouldn't put it past them to use grenades on unarmed civilians, especially after seeing what was done to Miss Rademacher, would you?"

"Judging from what we saw in the dining hall, NO, ma'am," said Wallchinsky.

"Damn…I wish I could just smash a bunch of those guys," said Hemsford. "Then they'd know how the hell it feels. A battle accomplishes something…but killing civilians for no _reason?_ This place is making me feel sick."

"Hemsford!" yelled Shandai. "I just detected some movement!"

"Yeah?" asked Hemsford as he looked...and then saw a blood-smeared hand moving behind two twisted chairs. Judging from its delicacy, it was apparently female.

"Nova!" he yelled as the medics and Nova ran up to pull the chairs off the pinned victim.

It was Keri McCullough, the young and famous colleague of Constance Rademacher. Her long hair was soaked with blood, and she looked very dazed, but she was still alive and clinging like crazy to another portable tri-d camera; in this case, a small crystal camcorder unit with a built-in transmitter.

"Who are you p…p…people?" she asked in a very slurred voice.

"Marine Group Leader Paul Hemsford, Ensign, Earth Defense Forces," said Hemsford as he helped Nova and Shandai pick her up into a litter that IQ-9 brought. "This here is Nova Wildstar, Senior Lieutenant and the CO of this crazy rescue op, and the ugly guy there is Sergeant Victor Wallchinsky."

"Sir, you mind?" asked Wallchinsky.

"Sorry, Vic," grinned Hemsford. "The last guy here is Lance Corporal Magred Shandai. He's gonna be the one giving you a tetanus shot in 'bout thirty seconds. Then we'll be getting you outta here. Hang loose, kid."

"The camera..." she groaned. "The camera."

"Which one?"

"Not mine. It's a portable unit. It's not connected to any uplink right now…but it's running on its own crystals. I mean the one Rex was holding. It's still on. It's taping us. Is Rex still alive?"

"Negative. No one here is alive except us," said IQ. "Which one is Rex?"

"Rex Argent, our cameraman. Over there."

"I see," said IQ-9 as he rolled over to Rex Argent's corpse. "Yes. He's quite dead. But the jamming field is off. Camera's on standby. I can start the uplink again if you want Earth to see this. Putting it on...NOW."

"IQ," said Nova firmly. "Put the camera down."

"Nova?" he said questioningly.

"What we have here is a disaster," she said firmly. "You know the regulations, IQ-9! We can't show this unedited on the networks without clearance! If we did, we'd upset the families of those who might be watching, and we'd be breaking every regulation in reference to censorship you can think of. Unless I receive the proper orders, this goes off."

And, at that, Nova turned off the portable unit.

"There goes my chance for an Emmy Award," chirped IQ-9. "I would have been a great reporter."

"NO!" moaned Keri from the litter. "Put me ON! Earth has to know about this. I was…"

"They'll know in due time," said Nova softly. "I'm a military officer. I can't violate my standing orders on news coverage and censorship. Just rest."

"But my story," whispered Keri.

"Don't talk," whispered Shandai as he held her hand. "We're getting you out of here..."

"Please...let me talk to Earth. I've got family. They've got to know I'm still alive."

"I'm sorry," said Nova as she came over again. "I told you I can't allow it. For now, you're to rest."

"Please…ma'am. They killed J.W. Peters…the singer. He's over there, dead! They seem to hate music or some…"

"I can't permit it," said Nova. "At least not now. Later, when you're better, we can have you report; because I think this story needs to be told at some point. But not now: not while we're trying to save your life and the lives of others, and not while we're all in danger. Don't you know this is still a combat zone until we know for certain that all of the enemy troops are gone?"

"I'm sorry," whispered Keri. "Do your job, then."

But I'll be damned if I miss any more such opportunities to tell my story, she thought harshly before she closed her eyes and decided that she needed to rest.

"I found another one," said Hemsford as he ran up. "Second pile of junk to aft."

"Can you take care of it, sir?" said Shandai. "We're trying to get Miss TV outta here before this vessel blows."

Hemsford said, "Got it, Lance Corporal. Nova, let's boogie."

At that, Nova and Hemsford hustled Keri out into the passage in her litter. Leaving IQ and another Marine to stand guard over her, they ran off to the second survivor that Hemsford had found, namely, Rex Argent.

He was a young man with a black beard, and, like Keri, he was now in shock. He seemed to be a passenger, but he was in bad shape. He was missing an arm, and the back of his head was a bloody mess, but he was alive. However, he was totally unconscious. Even after an injection of Atropine, he stayed far out there, though his vitals stabilized.

"Eyes fixed and pupils dilated," muttered Shandai as he worked with a penlight. "He has brain damage. DAMN."

"Not good," commented Nova. "Dr. Sane will need to work on him as soon as we get him off here."

"Maybe... if he lives."

"Nova? " called Sandor over her headset.

"Over."

"I just scanned your ship again. We're half a megameter away, and it doesn't look good. Sensors say it's getting hot belowdecks and I also read that your ship's reactor system is losing its magnetic bottle. It doesn't look good in there. You'd better get off ASAP with as many people as you can save."

"What about the enemy forces? I trust they're all gone?" she asked.

"No they aren't. We picked up more on radar a short time ago as we were trying to help another frigate that was caught in the battle. They were surface forces…cruisers, we think. We just took care of three of them with our main guns, but at least two or three more from their squadron got away. They could be back any second. For safety's sake, you'd better saddle up and get out of there. You did your best, but Wildstar wants you out of there as soon as possible. He's trying to signal Tyson to give her the same advice."

"IQ, did you account for everyone?" asked Nova.

"Scanning. I read ten more people in shock three decks below, judging from the life signs. I think the enemy troops gassed them."

"Sandor, you heard him?" demanded Nova.

"Yes, I did…unfortunately," replied Sandor as he clenched his bionic fists on the panel, wishing he could give them more time.

"Can't we do more, Sandor?" asked Nova. "There's so many wounded people here that need our help or need to be rescued! This ship still has the remnants of an enemy boarding party on board! We just can't leave these people to the enemy!"

"Those are your orders, but Derek knows...you and the others did your best. But I can't bend the laws of physics for you and those people, Nova. That reactor is going to blow in just a few minutes, and if you want to live, you'd better get _out _of there!"

"Okay," she said mournfully. _You damn cold technician,_ she thought angrily.

"What's the word?" asked Hemsford.

"We'll have to hurry!" yelled Nova, who ran up out of breath inside her helmet. "Sandor says that his sensors indicate the reactor's about to blow! If we don't get out of here, we'll all be as dead as these others!"

"What about those people below? Don't you read any more life signs?" barked Shandai. "We can't leave the others here, ma'am."

"I'll scan again. Now, my readings are negative, unfortunately," said IQ-9. "Those injured passengers have just died. The only injured people nearby are this young man and Miss McCullough. I'm sorry, Nova. I wish I could do more for you."

There was a long moment of silence, and then, after sitting with her head bowed for a moment, Nova angrily sat up. "Okay, then! That tells us there aren't any others…_now_." said Nova. "Sandor could've picked that bad reactor up, sooner, I think! Anyway, IQ's sensors say that Rex here is the last one alive in here, save for Keri and us. The other parties must have gotten the rest of the ones who survived."

Hemsford listened to the incoming reports from his troops. He wiped some blood off his green Star Force Marine Group uniform, which looked like a regular Combat Group uniform, except that it was olive drab with subdued black Star Force markings on it and a black collar, indicating his rank as Group Leader. His helmet was also olive drab. "You're correct, Nova. The only parties left on board this liner are Starkey's and ours. You'd be well advised to leave now."

"Right, IQ. Let's get out of here fast! We've got to hurry!" cried Nova.

"Roger that," said Wallchinsky as he helped Shandai open the litter/capsule and lower the other survivor inside. He was treated just the same as the litter was sealed up and was hustled out into the passage.

As soon as they had the last survivors out, everyone took off outside the passage.

They went through the burning ship on a run.

"Nova!" yelled Hemsford. "What do you think happened to that kid?"

"The little boy the enemy trooper stole from under our noses?"

"Yeah, him."

"I hope he's still alive, even if he's in enemy hands now," said Nova as they rode one of the last functioning lifts to the _Westhampton Beach_'s shuttle bay.

Their pilot was waiting with the Medevac boat. He shouted for everyone to secure him or herself, and then readied the boat for takeoff as Nova, Starkey, and IQ-9 got the survivors in, both the two they had found and two more that Starkey's men had pulled off the ship.

As Nova and Starkey were taking the man in, they were transfixed for a second by a bitter spectacle; three of the alien troopers suddenly appeared.

One of them had Jonathan in his armored hands.

Nova and Starkey opened fire again, trying to force the troopers down and away from their boarding pod without hurting the boy.

They tried, but their efforts were unsuccessful. One of the troopers, who just happened to be the infamous Kranel, managed to throw a gas grenade at the attackers as Jonathan cried, "HELP me! _Please!_ Get me away from these ugly guys!"

The gas blinded Nova and Starkey for a moment, just long enough for their attackers to drag Jonathan to their boarding pod, which was rammed into the side of the shuttle bay. They jumped in and whizzed away, evacuating the air with a loud hiss.

Nova and Starkey just managed to grab hold of the Medevac boat to keep from being sucked out the jagged hole. They forced themselves through the hatch into the ship, barely able to see through their watering eyes. The hatch dogged shut just in time. A second later, the medical boat began to take off as the derelict space liner began to tremble like a dying man. They noticed other alien pods rushing from the ship at the same time. A flaming support beam crashed down onto the deck, missing the advancing boat by just a few meters. The boat whizzed out through the hatchway into open space, flying through a cloud of smoke issuing from belowdecks.

Now, the battered liner was blowing even more smoke than ever. By all appearances, the vessel's life was about to come to an abrupt and fiery end. As Hartmann's Cosmo Tigers grouped around the medical boat to offer cover from the R'Khell planes, an explosion blasted out through the launch port they had just flown out of moments ago.

More blossoms of fire blasted out of rifts in the hull of the liner as the space frigate _Erwin Rommel, _which had taken off from the base sped about just behind the other ships and boats.

She had taken damage and was valiantly firing its remaining weapons at three flights of R'Khell attack planes that suddenly appeared.

Nova smiled when she saw some more Cosmo Tigers rushing in. Some were blue and gold, and the Lieutenant could see that two of them had the Texas flag on their flanks as part of their squadron logo.

Then, Lieutenant Wildstar gasped a little as she noticed two torpedoes streaking in from out of nowhere.

The blue and gold planes were on the torpedoes' path a moment later.

Wildstar thought, _Blue and gold markings, Texas flags…those must be from the **Akagi!** I wonder what she's doing in this area? Maybe Earth Defense called a general alert?_

It turned out that was exactly what had happened to divert the spacecraft carrier into this region. Most of her planes were pursuing the enemy battlecruisers, which had been spotted out beyond the orbit of Neptune, assisted by Hardy's squadron, which Captain Wildstar had just dispatched from the _Argo_ not four minutes beforehand.

Senior Lieutenant Dac Windfield, who was accompanied by his wingmen Landford and Horiyama were flying one of the planes from the _Akagi._

Windfield and Landford streaked after the torpedoes, but only two of the spread five were intercepted with nose cannon shots. Horiyama took out two of the missiles as he spun about.

The last one sped past as Dac narrowed his eyes, staring hard through his HUD as he came around for another pass. When he fired, he hit one of the two torpedoes he was aiming at. The other one, along with one his other wingman missed, blasted into the hull of the damaged ship along with one other torpedo.

That explosion was joined by a mightier explosion as the last remaining R'Khell sub fired two more torpedoes and the _Westhampton Beach_ finally blew apart.

The sight was by no means a pretty one. It was rather upsetting for the would-be saviors of the ship and her passengers as the rescue ships sped away to safety with their survivors.

* * *

We almost got **fried** back there, thought Felton with sweat running down his face inside his helmet.

"How many did we get out on this boat, ma'am? Just these four?"

"Right, Ensign. They rescued others on the other boats, at least." said Nova as she wiped tears of pain and frustration out of her eyes. "I wish we could've rescued that little boy and those ten others who died."

"Think Hartmann can catch that pod?" asked Hemsford as he also wiped his face.

"What can she do?" said Nova as she tossed him a few tissues. "If Laurel tries to shoot at them now, she'll just kill all of them. Let's call…Oh no!" she said as she stared at the ship's radar while wiping her eyes. "NO!" she cried.

"What?" asked Felton, as he looked up...and noticed the Black Tigers dispersing slightly just ahead...and accelerating like maniacs.

"Yessir...Yessir," he said rapidly as a transmission crackled over his helmet headset. "Increasing speed...going up to max..."

Nova and Starkey were about to ask what was going on...but the answer came to them a moment later as flashes of laser light lit up the darkness of space before them, returned by bursts of missile fire from the Tigers ahead of the boat.

"We're under attack!" yelled Starkey. "Enemy planes…all over us!"

"CRAP," muttered Felton as he continued to accelerate the medical boat.

"Oh, no!" cried Nova...who shut up as soon as she recognized an ugly red fighter ship advancing right at the medical boat._ If this were a recon plane, they'd soon find out there's another Wildstar around,_ Nova added to herself.

Their accompanying Cosmo Tiger II fired two missiles at the ship, but it dodged them and shot at the medical boat.

At his position inside his Cosmo Tiger, Dac Windfield snapped, "**Sheeeeitt**, man!" banging his fists against the dashboard of his plane. He snarled, "Whoever you are, buddy, you're fast, but you're pissing me off! When I catch up with you, you aren't gonna be worth half a credit!" he snapped as he wheeled around for another pass at the attacker.

In the meantime, near the _Argo_, Conroy was having problems of his own.

Conroy blasted around, trying to gain missile lock on one of the new scimitar-like enemy planes in tan. All that he knew was that as soon as he gained a lock on this guy, whoever he was, he was history.

"You scumbag" he muttered as he tried to line up on the enemy. "What sort of engines do you have in there that allow you to fly so damned fast?" he snarled as he sped on in his own Cosmo Tiger. Again, the enemy ship evaded him. Gritting his teeth, Conroy blasted forward, thinking grimly that if he had to engage this pilot in a close dogfight to blow him away, he'd do it.

He began to close as his gold-finned squadron leader's Tiger rushed in at full throttle. Before long, he was at the point where the plane was beginning to appear in his HUD at long range. He guessed that if he had missile lock for a moment, got one off, and then cleaned up with his nose guns, he'd toast the pilot for sure.

However, it didn't work out that way. As he approached, the enemy ship blew hard to port, accelerating off at a pace that made Conroy whistle.

"Well, you're playing a damn lousy game. Draw me in and run, huh?" said Conroy as he lost missile lock again just as he had been ready to fire. "Well, you'll find that..."

At that, the enemy ship suddenly flipped around with an unexpected agility...and a burst of loud static blasted over Conroy's headset.

"SON-of-a..." roared Conroy in rage as he shook his head in sheer agony.

It was at that moment that the enemy ship blasted a fusillade of laser beams at Conroy's plane before speeding off. The Cosmo Tiger shook like a hut in a storm as klaxons went off inside the cockpit, barely audible over the ringing in Conroy's ears. Glass flew everywhere, and Conroy's right arm was slit open. Inside his cockpit, he howled in pain for a moment as his helmeted head slammed hard back against the back of his seat.

In pain, and stunned, Conroy flew on drunkenly for just a moment._ Sneak, he thought. What a low tactic!_

The enemy plane came back around for another pass, its R'Khell pilot laughing insanely in his dark blue mask-like helmet as he locked every one of his guns on the smoking Cosmo Tiger in rapid succession and prepared to finish him off.

"Now, Terranisch pig," hissed the pilot as he smacked his lips. "Be prepared to face a nasty, ugly end to your miserable existence! I wish I could kill you in person, you infidel, but...this will have to do!"

At that, the pilot snapped on his radio again and snarled at Conroy. "Hello, there, pig. I have discovered your frequency! Tell, me, are you ready to die at the hands of the holy and superior R'Khell?"

Even though he was in agony and stunned, Conroy just barked, "**Eat **it, buddy!" Then he developed a halfway good idea of how to counter this hissing maniac. He disconnected his headset so he couldn't play with his radio again, and lined the advancing enemy pilot up in his HUD display as they closed on each other. The battered Cosmo Tiger trailed smoke as its adversary approached, and Conroy was in agony, but he knew what he had to do, even though he was flying with damaged attitude thrusters on one wing.

With a grim smile, Conroy thumbed his firing button just as his tormentor was about to finish him off. Blue laser light blasted across the void from his battered black and gold plane, and slammed into the ugly enemy ship.

Of course, the R'Khell pilot was promptly shut up for good as he died.

Soon, Conroy's banged-up Tiger was flying through an expanding cloud of gas as what was left of his tormentor was scattered to the void.

Conroy smiled again and hissed, "That's right, buddy. You never twist a Tiger's tail and expect to live long. Even with your fast plane and your dirty tactics, you couldn't finish me off!" hissed the Group Leader as he began to open his first aid kit to get a bandage.

Needless to say, Conroy was not happy. He could barely use his right arm, now. And, his head felt like it had spent a week in a clothes dryer. Nonetheless, Conroy flew on and continued to lead his squadron, even with two wounds and a damaged ship. Such was his skill as a fighter pilot.

Not far away, the battle still raged around the medical boat.

Just before the lights flashed off on the medical boat, Nova screamed as the enemy plane roared straight at them. She shut her eyes to blot out what would probably be the horror of her own death as the R'Khell plane took the unarmed Medevac boat apart with its main guns...

* * *

II. AS THE CLOCK TICKED…

Space Battleship _Argo_

January 10, 2202

0353 Hours-Space Time.

* * *

"Chafer, you say new bogies are approaching us from aft?" Dash asked from his station on the _Argo_.

"Roger!" said Carl Chafer, who had sweat staining his face. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his curly hair as he said, "Identification: two more enemy combat carriers, three more battlecruisers, and what looks like eight destroyers. They..."

The _Argo_ trembled again as a small explosion rumbled through its hull.

"God! One enemy battlecruiser has broken formation and is coming up on our stern, sir! Make that _two!_ They just fired torpedoes. Coming in fast! The range is three…no…two kilometers," said Parsons nervously from her station.

"All hands, brace for evasive!" snapped Venture. "Tilt, forty degrees port!"

Venture worked the helm, and the _Argo_ tilted hard to starboard, evading the missiles. At the same time, the aft turrets fired, taking out the enemy ship a moment later.

As soon as the nearby carrier _Akagi_ had somehow managed to establish communications with the _Argo_ and reported a group of enemy planes approaching from port, Captain Wildstar had had the foresight to have Lubyanska send two elements out after the rest of those bogies. This was a safety measure, in case any planes got through the screens that Conroy, Hardy, and Windfield had established around the area.

A few got through and these kept the _Argo_'s pulse lasers quite busy, until a second squadron of R'Khell planes whizzed in from starboard, having gotten under the screen that the Black Tigers and Texans had managed to throw up.

Calls from the wounded Conroy confirmed that the R'Khell planes and the new arrivals were going hard after both the _Erwin Rommel_ and the rescue ships. The battle had grown hotter now that they had a new R'Khell fleet boiling up their stern.

How nice! Wildstar snarled to himself as the _Argo_'s aft turrets began to speak, finishing off one R'Khell destroyer in short order. A moment later, another destroyer roared up above the plane of battle and then plunged down towards the _Argo's_ aft turrets, obviously trying to kamikaze right into the ship.

Wildstar snarled to himself as the 's aft turrets began to speak, finishing off one R'Khell destroyer in short order. A moment later, another destroyer roared up above the plane of battle and then plunged down towards the aft turrets, obviously trying to kamikaze right into the ship. 

"Ha, ha!" roared the destroyer captain as the ship roared in on its death-dive. "We will soon be in the Warbringer Ekogaru's Paradise thanks to _this_ deed, and they shall be in hell! Victory for R'Khelleva and the Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Union!"

"Smokestack missiles, FIRE!" snapped Wildstar.

"Fire missiles!" repeated a sweating Rosstowski.

A spread of missiles roared out of the _Argo's_ smokestack silo just in time to finish the enemy destroyer.

* * *

This is getting too close for comfort, thought Wildstar_. If we don't get RID of those attackers, and soon… our rescue boats are toast and Nova and her party will be killed along with them! Oh, damn! _he thought as he hammered a fist against his console.

thought Wildstarhe thought as he hammered a fist against his console. 

"DAMN!" barked Wildstar out loud, making Venture jump.

"Wildstar?" asked Venture and Dash in unison.

"Damnit, you know the spot our party is in! We could lose all our Marines and most of our medical personnel out there. Furthermore, we can't let those survivors die now that they're almost to safety! Helm, forty-five starboard, PDQ!" barked Derek. "Then, Dash, Rosstowski, wake up over there! You guys get all of those guns on target and take out that fleet!"

"Right," said Venture. "Forty-five, STARBOARD!"

"Preparing main guns," snapped Dash.

The _Argo_ began to majestically turn about even as more bursts of fire blossomed from space, out where Wildstar knew the boats were.

God, I hope that wasn't Nova's boat! thought Wildstar. _If it was…we had a damn short marriage! _he thought while closing his eyes and trying to hide the tears taht were building up in them."Dash, get those guns firing on those large ships! You know what to do!" snapped Wildstar.

thought Wildstar. he thought while closing his eyes and trying to hide the tears taht were building up in them."Dash, get those guns firing on those large ships! You know what to do!" snapped Wildstar. 

"Rosstowski, have the aft turrets change bearing and range as the vessel turns. Order all guns to train on the enemy and open fire when ready!" ordered Dash.

"Yessir!" grinned Paul. _Again, Wildstar's crossing the "T" in a hurry with these SOB's. Good!_

Good orders, Dash, thought Wildstar from his post. _Now carry them out!_

thought Wildstar from his post. 

"Captain!" said Parsons, "Two ships approaching fast from our stern!"

"HUH?" said Wildstar. "Put it up on video...Holly…fast!"

"Yessir," said Parsons.

The _Argo_ shivered again from another hit.

* * *

"Turn completed!" said Venture.

"Dash, fire all guns!" said Wildstar.

"On target," replied Dash. "Open FIRE!"

At that, the _Argo_ blasted at the two closest enemy ships. One blew apart, while the other broke out and sped off to port, firing as it went.

The crew braced for more impacts.

When that barrage missed the ship, Chafer called out, "Four more ships, coming in on our stern. Range, forty megameters, and closing fast! Switching to video panel!"

At that, Carl flicked a switch as the images of the new arrivals came up on the screen.

When Wildstar saw what they were, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. They were EARTH vessels; the carrier _Akagi,_ the new space battleship _New Zealand,_ and two fleet cruisers, which were named the _Ise_ and the _Delaware_. They had just been firing at the R'Khell ships when they came into visual range.

"Wildstar, the skipper of the carrier _Akagi_ is calling up again on video," said Homer.

"Put it on the screen, Ensign!" said Wildstar while glancing over at Homer.

"Roger!" replied Homer.

Wildstar breathed a nice sigh of relief as a familiar face came up on the video panel.

"Captain Siegel, how nice it is to see you again!" said Wildstar. "What are you and your squadron doing here?"

"We're at your service, sir. Diverted from the edge of Area Four by the orders of Commodore Pavlovich. What are our orders?"

"Turn about and come up in attack formation "Baker Five" above and below our ecliptic. You guys start hitting them with your guns as soon as they turn about...that'll give them something to think about! " said Wildstar, who was just a little surprised at having a squadron of capital ships at his beck and call. However, since he had commanded such squadrons in combat before, especially in 2201, he adjusted quickly to this unexpected bit of help.

"Roger. What about those little ships at RX-4510?"

"Miss Parsons!" said Wildstar. "Scan that image and magnify it!"

"Yessir," she said, revealing the battered _Erwin Rommel_, which was smoking from hull breach after hull hatch, but was still in the battle, even though she was retreating. Several Medevac boats, including two with distinctive markings, namely, red crosses a bit larger than usual, accompanied her.

"Thank God," muttered Wildstar.

"Wildstar?" asked Siegel.

"Nothing. I just spotted both of the Medevac boats we sent. They're all right. I thought we had lost one of them out there. And that frigate is the _Erwin Rommel_. Sir, please signal to her that I want her out of here now before they finish off their ship by fighting on too long for their own good!"

"Yessir," said Siegel as a burst of light outside suddenly darkened the _Argo_'s main video panel for a moment.

All hands on the ship braced for impact as they expected more hits where those had just come from. The _Argo_ trembled again, twice, as two more hits from a R'Khell battlecruiser slammed into her hull.

"Skipper, the starboard observation deck and the living bloc have both taken hits!" said Sandor.

"Heavy battlecruiser: range, fourteen megameters at forty-five degrees off the port bow," said Holly. "Speed twenty-five space knots! Damn, those things are fast!"

"Sandor, send damage control teams and medics!" barked Wildstar. "Venture! Change course, twenty degrees!"

"Right," said Mark as he worked the helm handles.

Again, the _Argo_ changed course as more green bursts of plasma whizzed past her charred flanks.

"Wildstar, turn completed!" said Venture.

"All turrets are ready...elevation +20 degrees," said Dash from his combat group leader's post.

Wildstar just nodded.

"All guns, OPEN FIRE!" barked Dash as plasma fire from the _Argo's_ main turrets whizzed out into the R'Khell fleet and caused one of the R'Khell warships to reel back with blossoms of light surrounding it. One destroyer went up in a ball of gas and was a total loss.

The _Argo's_ forward main guns continued to blast a second broadside into the enemy fleet.

This barrage was followed a moment later by equally awesome bursts of fire from the _Akagi_ and the _New Zealand_. Their escort cruisers, the _Delaware_ and the _Ise,_ followed up as their guns joined in once again with the symphony of destruction that the R'Khells had forced themselves to hear by coming after Earth's interests.

A second group of plasma surges whizzed from the _Argo_'s shock cannons into the R'Khell fleet, blasting straight through a R'Khell combat carrier's port side. As damage reports came in over the intercom to the ship's captain, a second salvo from the _Argo_ and the _Delaware_ blasted right across his flight deck.

"Launch all planes!" the carrier's commander screamed over the klaxons and dull explosions, as two Earth destroyers, the _Montevideo_ and the _Beijing,_ which had taken off from the base, began to close in.

"Sir, we can't! " said his Air Group officer.

"Why not?"

"It, well, it is difficult to launch planes because the last salvo ripped a three-_geret_ wide gap in the flight deck! If we could withdraw and send damage control parties out there, we could repair it!"

"Make the attempt," snapped the ship's captain.

"Yessir," snapped the damage control officer. "All hands..."

However, he never got to finish, because another salvo of plasma surges from the guns of the _Argo_ and the _Montevideo_ blasted up through the keel of his carrier as the helmsman attempted to perform evasive maneuvers. That burst of fire was followed up by two closer-range bursts of energy from the two Earth destroyers. The carrier went up in flames from the keel up and blew itself apart like a child's water balloon pierced by a knife. There were no survivors.

The last surviving R'Khell battlecruiser roared up with its engine and starboard thrusters blasting it towards the Earth task group as it opened up with its guns to avenge its fallen comrades.

Several hits bounced off the _Argo_ and the _Ise_, and the _Ise_ had her keel radar array blown off as a result.

The _Argo_'s three forward turrets swung around a few degrees as the ship approached, roaring up to about eight megameters' range of the task group as it approached with its guns firing wildly, with several Astrofighters from Hardy's squadron in hot pursuit.

The R'Khell salvoes missed the Earth task group, and, as the planes roared off, the _Argo_'s aft main gun turret locked on target. The _Argo_ then opened up with all of her main guns and secondary batteries, and the _New Zealand_ also blasted her guns at the ugly red battlecruiser.

The result was quick and deadly. The R'Khell ship was hit four times, and it rapidly exploded as the task group roared about and away from the dying warship.

A single R'Khell destroyer fired a wave of missiles at the task group, but they missed. Once again, the main guns of the carrier _Akagi_ spoke, followed by three waves of torpedoes from the Earth destroyers, and once again, a R'Khell warship met its end.

Two more R'Khell destroyers attempted to shield the combat carrier _Shalinskar_, which was the fleet flagship, but they soon went the way of their sister ships as the _Ise _and the two EDF destroyers blew both of them to bits.

"We're getting out of here. I'll apologize to Cha'rif for listening to that Gralnacz. I'll apologize to the Admiral, too, when we meet up with the flagship," said the commander of the R'Khell combat carrier, who was known as Commodore Varnava.

"Yessir...calculating warp coordinates."

"What about the planes?" asked the combat officer, known as Mervyns.

"If any of them are left, let the Terrans pick them apart. Perhaps it'll keep them busy enough to keep them from coming after us for the moment!"

"Coordinates laid in!" snapped the helmsman. "Awaiting your orders, Commodore!"

"Preparing to relay your order to the task force, sir," yelled the comm officer.

"WARP!" screamed Varnava...just as a bolt of energy from the _Argo_ began to whiz towards his bow.

His ship vanished into subspace just in time, along with what was left of their fleet, leaving a nice pile of debris behind him.

Except for some damage to the Earth ships, the R'Khells had failed to finish them off, so they had been, in effect, defeated. As was often the case, the whole thing was over with in an extremely short time.

* * *

III. AFTERMATH

Space Battleship _Argo_

January 10, 2202

0412 Hours Space Time.

* * *

"Sir!" said Chafer. "The enemy ships just warped out...what's left of 'em, that is."

"Forty to one they'll be back...and in greater numbers," mused Derek. "Scan for our boats and planes. How many of them are left with those planes and subs still out there?"

Damn, I hope Nova is all right, thought Derek. _I know her boat's okay…but what about **her**?_

thought Derek. 

On the_ Akagi_, Anya Windfield thought_, I hope Dac is okay out there. Damn, my heart is pounding like crazy! You'd better not have gotten yourself killed out there, flyboy! Ghod, you have a dangerous line of work!_

"What's on your mind?" asked the _Akagi's_ Mechanical Group Leader.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing except getting this computer to work right," lied Windfield.

"I thought so. Carry on, Mrs. Windfield."

"Yessir," said Anya.

* * *

Aboard her boat, Nova saw a clot of green light coming through her eyelids, and realized she was still alive. Outside, the R'Khell ship had blown apart, and now, all three of the Cosmo Tigers that made up their screen were wheeling around their boat, watching for others.

Out in the distance, Felton noticed a blaze of lights glittering around the area where he knew the _Argo_ and the remnants of the frigate screen were. He said, "Nova, have a look at that! They're after the ships, too!"

"I hope they're still there when we get back," she said.

"This is 'Tiger' Windfield from the _Akagi_," said Dac over Felton's headset, startling him a little as he switched to the main speakers. "I've received orders from the _Akagi_ to get my squadron back to the ship in tight formation, and fast. My CAG sounds worried. Can you get any more speed out of the ship?"

"Negative. I'm at full speed now, Dac," he said. He knew Windfield because he had been a year behind him at the Space Fighters' Training School.

"Well, keep up what you can," said Windfield.

"Did you get them all?"

"Yeah, we did. For now."

"What if they come back?"

"Then we'll fight them again. Even though we might just end up screwed."

"I heard a lot of guys got lost in the other squadrons," said Felton. "Who'd you lose?"

"A young lady named Wagnall in Charlie Element. They had her cut up like a damned badger in a trap. Roger just barely got the rest of his Charlies to finish those jokers off. If we don't watch our tails, we'll be next. Over and out!"

And, at that, Windfield cut off. For the next ten minutes, Hemsford, Nova, Felton and the others had a very tense ride as the ships drew closer and closer to the _Argo_ and the backup cruisers they noticed.

As they looked around, they noticed the _Argo_'s other boat was still with them but the third medical boat from the base was gone. Later, they would discover that it been shot up before they had reached the _Argo_: a R'Khell plane had caught it and had wiped out it, its entire crew, and five survivors they had picked up. Its escorts bore the brunt of the R'Khell squadron's wrath, stopping many of the enemy fighters at the cost of their own lives.

Needless to say, they were very relieved when they got back to the _Argo_ with their survivors.

* * *

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**_SPECIAL FAN CREDIT_----** _The characters of "Dac Windfield" and "Anya Windfield" are copyright © 2001 by Derek A. C. Wakefield._  
_All rights reserved. All references to and usage of these characters here was done with the express permission of Mr. Wakefield._ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT THREE--"THE WRATH OF RIKASHA"


	3. Chapter 3

**ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE**

**STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF**

**Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz**

**ACT THREE--THE WRATH OF THE RIKASHANS**

* * *

**I. THE R'KHELLS LICK THEIR WOUNDS.**

**January 10, 2202**

**Cometary**** Halo of Earth's solar system beyond Brumus**

**0522 Hours Space-time**

* * *

Not that far away, near the edge of the solar system, a large number of Rikashan and R'Khell space warships lurked in the outer edges of the asteroid belt as the remnants of the R'Khell squadron under Admiral Varnava's command reappeared out of subspace near the _T'Renda_itself. 

A while later, a solitary R'Khell shuttle was taking Admiral Varnava aboard the R'Khell flagship _T'Renda_ for a meeting that the R'Khell Admiral didn't expect to survive. He didn't expect to live because he had noticed that Kierzden was rather miffed, to say the least, once he had come back with what was left of his squadron rather than gone down fighting as custom demanded he should.

However, Varnava noticed that Kierzden's mood had undergone an abrupt change as soon as he came aboard and reported on the bridge with a solemn salute to Kierzden.

"Admiral Kierzden," said Varnava. "We fought hard, but we were overwhelmed by the Star Force. I must accept my death and offer my life in..."

"Negative on that babble," said Kierzden quietly. "I already reported to the Baron about you...no...about us"

"The Baron's _here?_ NOW?"

"I take it you didn't notice the battleship _B'eoneraze_ when you came in. Yes, Cha'rif is here. And I have been ordered to apologize to _him_ myself. You have not been ordered to see him at this time, Commodore."

"And?" asked Varnava as his heart leapt.

"Listen well to me," said Kierzden, who was suddenly rather pale. "The Baron has discovered what we were up to, and I am ready to accept full blame for it. So, chances are, you will live...and you will probably have my command before the day ends."

"Sir...I am so..."

"Stay your empty words. Since my forces and submarines engaged them first, I was called to account myself by Baron Cha'rif. To that end, our watch upon the _Argo_ has been changed. As he has commanded, in the name of his God, and not necessarily that of his Lord Zaden..."

"But he said..."

"His loyalty is, first, to his Deity, his Dark Lord," said Kierzden. "The Warbringer, as our first loyalty should be. Since He rules us by His examples, His will is higher even than that our temporal ruler himself. To that end, I have been ordered to make penance before Him and the Baron. This is because I was told by Cha'rif that we did not look closely enough, to see if His so-called Prophet Gralnacz was truly a Prophet of the Dark Lord's or not. Cha'rif does not feel he was a true Prophet, my friend."

"So...what?"

"I was told I could make this penance on Earth, but not even I choose to confront Him in the guise of His Prophetess. Not even I like out-and-out traitors to their own races such as Yvona Josiah. To that end, when I depart, I have been told to leave you in command here, along with what is left of Battle Task Force III. My whole fleet must come with me."

"But..."

"You have nine ships left. That should be enough to track the _Argo_ with. You can also take two of our subs with you, and you have Ka'mok on board one of them, friend. If you find a spot where you can strike the _Argo_ without any interference from the rest of the Earth fleet, hit her again and damage her as payback, unless Cha'rif orders otherwise. My last orders. Understood?"

"Aye, sir. Aye."

* * *

**II. SURVIVORS**

**January 10, 2202**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**In Dock at Triton Base**

**0817 Hours Space-time**

* * *

A while after the battle, all of the Medevac shuttles, landing boats, and lifeboats safely landed on Triton near the EDF Base Hospital there so the survivors and the wounded could be escorted off the boats to the hospital. This job took a bit over an hour, and the members of the Argo's medical staff and Marine Group who had rescued the survivors then had the job of making sure the traumatized passengers and crew of the lost _Westhampton__ Beach_ were medically stabilized and sedated where necessary. This was a dire need especially since many had lost family and loved ones in the attack upon the liner and the cruel infantry raid that had followed. 

Furthermore, the Marines also had charge of an alien prisoner, the sole survivor of a R'Khell squad caught in Earth fire on the liner. All of his squad had somehow managed to kill themselves except for this man. After seeing to their survivors, Lieutenant Nova Wildstar and Ensign Paul Hemsford saw to it that this prisoner was secured in the brig on Triton, where he would be confined until a team of specialists would examine and interrogate him. Nova meant to be with that team, if possible.

In the meantime, four destroyers escorted the _Argo_ towards a repair dock. She was still smoking from her battle wounds, and she was accompanied to Triton by the escorts and by the beat-up frigate _Erwin Rommel._

Captain Wildstar took down a damage report from Sandor, who estimated the damage would take only nine hours to fix and received some reports from other Group Leaders and department heads. Then, Derek made a private report to the Commander in the communications room. After he was done, he went to his cabin to update the ship's log, deal with other paperwork, and have some tea.

While Derek had his head buried in his paperwork, the cabin door opened. He looked up, breathing a visible sigh of relief when he noticed that his visitor was Mrs. Wildstar. Needless to say, he gladly set aside his paperwork. "Thank heavens you're alive," said Captain Wildstar as he threw his arms around his wife.

"Derek, I'm so glad to be back," said Nova.

"I was afraid I lost you for a bit, Nova," he said as he held her close. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Derek," said Nova in response as she hugged him back. "It's okay. Someone must have been looking out for me."

"Glad you're back, Nova. Just tell me how it went out there?" asked Captain Wildstar as he continued to hold and caress his wife, taking in her scent her warmth; the warmth he thought he'd lost forever…"

_"It was horrible," _said Nova as she shook her head, fighting for a second to hold back tears. She roughly wiped her dark brown eyes and said with a hitch in her voice, "Derek... We only got a few survivors back."

"That doesn't sound good," said Captain Wildstar. He let go of Nova and then pushed his chair up the track towards the wide window. "I'll have to hold you more later…you know…..duty…"

"Yes," said Nova with a deep hitch in her voice.

The view outside on the icy satellite looked as windy and bleak as his mood. He turned the chair around to face Nova and sat down with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and said, "How many did we save?"

"Well, out of the rather small complement of 380 passengers and crew aboard for her maiden voyage, out of a possible 450, forty-eight got out in the liner's lifeboats, and we rescued a total of forty with the two Medevac boats and other boats that came back. It was awful, Derek! We didn't get a lot of them out..."

"You're right; that's not a lot," mused Captain Wildstar sadly. "But it could've been much worse if the cruise had been fully booked at regular rates with 450 people aboard."

"You don't have to remind me of that," replied Nova. "Furthermore, they captured a little boy right from under our noses, along with other prisoners. We tried to save the boy, but...we failed to rescue him. TWICE. Ensign Hemsford feels horrible, and so do I. We messed up, Derek! How could we have let so many of them slip away like that? We...we didn't do our jobs!" she said as she put her face in her hands and sobbed softly for a moment.

"Nova, don't blame yourself," said Wildstar as he grasped her hands. "You tried, and your immediate party was overwhelmed by the force you met in there. Think of the lives you and the others from the _Argo_ and the other ships succeeded in saving!"

"I know, but...I," sniffed Nova.

"There," whispered Derek as he got up and just held his wife. "Just...take a deep breath...like you taught me..."

Nova did so, and felt a bit better. "You heard about the prisoner, didn't you, Derek?"

Derek nodded. "The Commander asked me about him when I talked to him at 0730. I was surprised, because that was news to me."

"They're going to try to interrogate him at 1100. Want to come along?"

"I might as well, since we're going to be here until 1700," shrugged Derek. "I suggested that we try to make those repairs underway so we can catch what's left of that enemy fleet and catch the stragglers that are still out there, according to the _Akagi_."

"So...why are we here, Derek?"

"Good question. Sandor and Orion suggested that the repairs we need could be better made here, as opposed to taking twenty hours underway, possibly in hostile territory. Since we have a safe port here and can get shipshape more quickly, I guess we'd better make good use of it," said Captain Wildstar, who was still holding Nova's hands.

The buzzer went off at one of the Captain's communications ports on the cabin console a moment later. Derek let go of Nova's hands and ran over to answer it.

"Captain's quarters," said Captain Wildstar.

"Captain! There's an urgent call coming in on video!" cried Homer. "You'd better get down to the bridge."

"I'll be there right away," said Derek.

"I'll bet it's probably just Commodore Pavlovich," smiled Nova.

"How do you know?"

"When I was the Commander's adjutant, I was always taking social calls from him...you know, sending his regards and regrets and all. Let's go."

* * *

When Derek and Nova got out of the lift a short while later, Captain Wildstar turned to Homer and said, "Now, shall we deal with this trifling call from the Commodore, Homer?" sighed Wildstar. 

"Sir...it's more important than that. It's not him, Wildstar," said Homer, who was sweating just a little.

"Then, who IS it?" demanded Wildstar as he looked up at the screen as an image began to appear. "Is it the commander? The President?"

"No...it's just..."

"Don't keep it a secret, Homer!" snapped Venture.

"Well...you guys will see," whined Homer. "Switching to video now."

The image quickly resolved into that of a tall, dignified personage whose appearance made everyone on the bridge gasp for a second. Not because he was a threat now...but because his appearance on the screen was rather...shall we say...unexpected?

"_Desslok_!" gasped Wildstar as he looked up into the dark eyes of his old arch-rival turned personal friend.

"It's been a little while, Wildstar. I trust you and Nova are well?"

"Yes...we are."

"I'm pleased. But I'm afraid I called you for a more serious reason. It concerns...our mutual investigation."

"...Yes, that." said Wildstar as a bit of mistrust showed on his face. "May I ask what else you know about the Varalndus...or Beta Valentis System, Desslok? I have just received formal permission from the Earth Commander to investigate the area, especially after what happened a few hours ago," he said, approaching the subject indirectly.

"I take it something happened when the wave of subspatial disturbance hit your solar system?"

"Yes, Desslok. Something certainly happened. We were attacked by alien forces known as the Technomugar, who were aided by a vicious race known as the R'Khell. These Technomugars are cyborgs, it seems, although the R'Khells are definitely humanoid lifeforms somewhat similar to us. Their commander, named Gralnacz, attacked the _Argo_ and a civilian spaceliner that some other Earth ships and we were escorting to safety from the approaching disturbance."

"In light of our cooperation on the Varalndus matter," continued Captain Wildstar, "I'm cleared to tell you that Gralnacz forced us into the disturbance, and we emerged almost three hundred years in the past. We had a struggle to get back, but we were aided in that struggle and in our attempt to keep Gralnacz from destroying our own past by two Time Lords, beings of immense power and wisdom."

"The Time Lords?" asked Desslok with raised eyebrows. "You mean they truly exist?"

"They do. Two of them helped us. Both were very eccentric, but both were brilliant and powerful, Desslok. One was known as "Melvin Seadragon". The other had no name, but he called himself "The Doctor."

"You have met with legends from out of tales," said Desslok in a low voice. "The Doctor was a semi-mythical figure who looms large in our folktales from ancient times. Some tales say he was incredibly good, others say he was unspeakably evil, worse than Zordar himself. Luckily, I daresay you met him on one of his good days."

"I think we did. He was very helpful, Desslok. Luckily, we have just reported to Earth Defense and have permission from the Commander to speak to you about these battles and events, along with permission to meet with you near the planet. We also fought a great battle with the R'Khell when we emerged from warp in our time."

"It's amazing that you lived, Wildstar. Once more, I compliment you on your bravery and wisdom. Most ships that have passed through such a rift have never returned. I know that four of mine didn't."

"Four of yours...didn't?"

"Yes. We are now 100 lightyears closer to the Varalndus System than we were yesterday. I lost three destroyers and one carrier to that accursed disturbance. I am cautioning you to be careful as you approach the Varalndus System, Wildstar. That is part of the reason I called."

"And...the other reasons were?"

"To give you some more intelligence, and to arrange a place and time for our meeting."

"Thank you. The intelligence, first, Desslok?"

"I thought you'd ask for that first," said Desslok with a mildly annoyed smile on his blue face. "This is what else we have learned about that region of space, based upon scans by a destroyer that got within four hundred lightyears of the area. The planet is solid, it has life on it, and it is cooling rapidly. In ten of your days, it will cool to the point that it can no longer support life, if, indeed, it doesn't explode _nine_ days from now. The personage on the planet is growing increasingly agitated and demands our presence there. I intend to be there in seven days, scanning for more of those deadly disturbances and also scanning for any possible action by these new enemies you spoke of. When can _you _be there?"

"It will take us half a day to repair the _Argo_, Desslok. However, using the same precautions that you use, and keeping in touch with you as communication conditions permit, we expect that we can be there seven and a half days after we leave, on the 19th. This will be as we planned, and as the Commander has given us a window on which to report to our Government on what is happening there."

Desslok nodded. "So I can expect to see you in eight days?"

"Yes, Leader Desslok," said Wildstar.

"Eight days, then. Hopefully, conditions will not grow worse. I look forward in seeing you in eight days. May the beings that rule space look upon you with favor, and may you have a good trip."

"The same to you, Desslok," said Captain Wildstar. "And...may God bless you and your people."

"I thank you," said Desslok. "I look forward to our meeting."

And, at that, Desslok's image faded from the _Argo's_ main screen.

"What do you think of that?" said Sandor.

"It sounds somewhat ominous," said Wildstar. "I think we'd better be back in touch with the Commander PDQ."

Sandor just nodded at that.

* * *

**III. SICKBAY**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**In Dock on Triton**

**January 10, 2202**

**0930 Hours space-time**

* * *

Later on, in the _Argo_'s Sickbay, Dr. Sane and Nova were busy treating the wounded as the clock clicked over to 0930. Conroy, of course, was among them. Doctor Sane considered it a miracle that the Flight Group Leader had gotten his plane back in one piece, as well as himself. He had two good slams and gashes in his head and a deep gash in his right arm. He had almost lost enough blood to become unconscious on the way back, even with his bandage, and he was now receiving a transfusion. But that was the least of Sane's worries. 

The arm was.

"I tell you, don't argue with me. You need surgery, on that right arm and you need it soon, young man." snapped Doctor Sane.

"But who's going to run the Flight Group while I'm recovering?" groaned Conroy.

"Hardy can do well enough until you recover."

"But we had enough wounded that we're short-handed all around. Six pilots were wounded in this battle, and five never got back. We're down almost one whole squadron!"

"Then you won't like what I have to tell you."

"What?"

"Nova?"

"Conroy, the Doctor has examined your right arm thoroughly with the scanners. You'll need orthopedic surgery to get it working correctly again, and you'll need it at once. We're operating on you tonight. It's going to take at least four days for you to recover afterwards, maybe five. He and the Flight Surgeon are pulling your certification until we're convinced that the arm has healed and you're well enough to fly again," said Nova as she snapped off one of her surgical gloves and put it in a pocket of her white Medical minidress.

"What?"

"I'm really sorry, Conroy. Both of us are. But, you'll be needed again. Right now, we want you to concentrate on getting better and getting ready for surgery," said Nova with a smile. "The Captain told me we can get along without you for a few days."

"Consider it a nice long leave," smiled Doctor Sane.

"We're at war! This _stinks_!" muttered Conroy.

"Take it easy, Conroy. You'll be all right, and so will Earth."

"That's easy for you to say, Doc. Damn, that's easy for you to say. If only I could describe the kind of plane that screwed me up..."

"You will when the Captain debriefs you here in Sickbay, tomorrow, Shawn," said Nova as she straightened her dress. "Now you take it easy, and rest. Doctor, when are we going to start?"

"1300. I want to get in there before scar tissue begins forming."

"Hmmm, I have some things the Captain wants done, but I'm sure I can get back here by 1200. Then IQ and I can prep the OR for you and we can get him under in about forty-five minutes..." Nova then motioned Dr. Sane aside and asked, "How bad is it, in your opinion?"

"He's going to need regeneration of a few tendons," he muttered as he looked over his chart.

"That's at least four hours," sighed Nova. "Well, after we finish looking over these others, I'd better take a quick break for some nice strong coffee and maybe grab a bite to eat so I'll be in good shape on when I get back down here," she said, glancing down at her boots for a second. "Sounds like we have a long day ahead."

"What does Wildstar want you to do?"

"Accompany him to the interrogation of the R'Khell prisoner on the base."

"Hmmm...maybe I should come, too," said Dr. Sane. "This might be interesting. It's been a while since I've been near an unknown enemy alien."

* * *

In another part of the base, aboard the _Colin Powell_, Lieutenant Ember Tyson, now officially in command as the new Captain of the frigate, sighed as she stood near the bunk of Amy Girard, a member of her crew, in the ship's small dispensary. Amy had been severely wounded on the frigate's bridge during the battle, and she had just died while holding Ember's hand and asking her to send her last wishes to her family. 

Tyson looked nauseated and rather tired as the _Colin Powell_'s Pharmacist's Mate gently removed Amy's limp, bloody hand from hers and covered up her body with a sheet. A smear of blood stained Ember's white peacoat at a point where Amy had been trying to grasp it right before she passed on.

"How many did we lose altogether?" asked Ember as she looked at the compartment, which had several sheet-covered bunks lined up on one side, not far from the bunks that still held the living.

"Five," said the Pharmacist's mate, a young man known as Ensign Harev Ghulman. "The others...well..."

"I think I understand, Mister," said Tyson. "We got our butts kicked out there. I got permanent command of this ship. We'll be here for three weeks making repairs. However, if we come out of this smelling like anything except shit, I'll be really surprised."

"What do you mean, ma'am? We fought hard."

"They say I did all right. I guess I did as well as I could, under the circumstances. But as a collective...I don't think we'll look that good. We lost a ritzy liner...and, as I heard, over two hundred people. It's not going to look that good in the end. We'll probably get assigned to some area where almost nothing ever happens, like patrol of the Minerva asteroid belt, or something like that. Those aliens are _crazy_. I wonder where they're from?"

Ghulman shrugged.

"We'll, _I'd _sure like to know where they're from," she said.

* * *

**III. A SNOWY MORNING**

**Earth--The Federal Megalopolis: Government Center**

**Earth Defense Headquarters**

**Chamber of the Earth Defense Council**

**January 10, 2202**

**1000 Hours space-time**

* * *

Unknown to Lieutenant Tyson, the new skipper of the _Colin Powell_, the Earth Defense Council was in the midst of debating that very question in the middle of a blizzard that was blowing in the streets of the Megalopolis outside the windows of EDF Headquarters in the very center of the Megalopolis on Great Island. 

At the moment, the Commanding General Singleton's heart felt as cold as the storm outside while Piper Sandberg, Ph.D., who knew everything about every alien race in creation, rattled on and on about his feelings about the entire business, expressing the feelings of his learned Xeno-Cultural Bureau.

"General," he said to General Stone, "You asked my opinion, so I'm giving it to you. I think the Star Force is the biggest loose cannon we have out there right now. For all we know, if they hadn't started shooting from their hip last night, we might've been left alone by those raiders."

"Nonsense!" said Stone. "I thought the same thing that you did, until we received enough intelligence from the _Argo_ and from other vessels that would seem to indicate that our enemies definitely started this whole business."

"Well, why doesn't our Genius Boy Captain out there follow orders?" said Lt. General William F. Weiner, the Military Attaché to the Senate Armed Services Committee. "Singleton, you sent him out there to investigate the appearance of that planet and to investigate the phenomena surrounding it. _What _does he do? He goes out there and apparently sees how many of these R'Khells he can aggravate into attacking this liner! As a result, we have a couple hundred people dead..."

"With many survivors who would have frozen to death out in space if Wildstar had done nothing," snapped Stone. "Thanks to his quick action under fire, this wasn't a total loss."

"_Hogwash!_ Wildstar acted on his own authority and acted like some young tin God and overstepped his judgment," snapped Weiner.

"Because he was ordered to," said the Commander. "You were here when we passed that resolution last night, along with that commendation for Wildstar."

"I left for that," said Sandberg insolently. "Remember, General?"

_Probably a good thing you did, Piper_, thought Singleton irritably.

"What about those convoys?" said Weiner. "Sir, didn't another one get torpedoed this morning near Uranus?"

"Yes," said Singleton. "Do you have the full report on that incident?"

"No."

"We only have a preliminary report," said Singleton, "But, at about 0230 this morning, a convoy of three ore freighters on their way in from Brumus was torpedoed without warning near the Uranus orbit and their escorting frigates were destroyed. Only one space submarine was caught by a patrol operating from the carrier _Akagi_, before she warped in to aid the _Argo_, but it was of an unknown design and red in color, like the ones Captain Wildstar reported seeing. The bulk ore carriers _Star of the East, Sheng Luo_, and _Habana_ were lost, along with their crews, cargo, and both of their escorts, the frigates _Matthew B. Ridgway_ and _George Grivas._ Total loss of life, over three hundred persons, and Wildstar was nowhere _near_ the area," snorted Singleton. "It's an undeclared war by an alien race, and this right after Gernitz of the Cometines almost waltzed into the solar system and finished what Zordar started."

We must find out who is behind this," said Kohler of Intelligence. "The only hint we have is that a transmission was intercepted by a pilot flying from the _Argo._ He said the enemy identified themselves as 'the R'Khell'."

"That, and this action report from Wildstar," said Singleton as his female aide, in a white Headquarters uniform and skirt, began to pass some folders around the table. "You'll turn to the section marked "_Assessment of Threat_." In that section of the report, it is reported that troopers wearing armor similar to the sort seen by Wildstar in Earth's past were seen massacring people without provocation on the _Westhampton Beach_ this morning. The report seems to indicate that these are massive lifeforms from a heavy-gravity planet. One has been captured alive, found similar to us, and is being held prisoner on Triton Base. However, others seen in Earth's past with similar equipment were said to be cyborgs with strange powers. Two branches of one alien race? And a pair of pirate raids connected with strange natural phenomena or a war? We don't know. Plus, we have a terrorist threat here on Earth."

"Which is?" asked Weiner.

"More doings by code-name 'Evil Fairy'," said Kohler.

"You mean Yvona Josiah, head of that cult?" asked Weiner.

"We mean Yvona Josiah, head of a religious terrorist organization," said Kohler.

"Well, what are we doing about _her _if she's such a potential threat?" asked Sandberg. "And, is she connected to this, or is this some example of how 'bad things happen in threes'?"

"We've already infiltrated two of Evil Fairy's front organizations," said General Kohler, the EDF's Intelligence chief. "Our agents there tell us her current whereabouts are unknown: something about her having _"gone abroad to the desert to seek a revelation_," said Kohler dubiously.

"What are you doing to watch her?" asked Singleton.

"Sir, we've sent agents to the Great Southwestern Desert to keep an eye out for her. Agents are being sent to Arabia, the Sahara in the Afro States and the Gobi Desert in East Asia to watch for her. The probability that she has left the planet itself seems to be negligible, judging from our shut-down of civilian traffic."

"I trust your shutdown is _effective_?" asked Sandberg.

"It is. And don't speak to me in that tone." said the Commander.

Sandberg just stared at Singleton for a moment, clearing his throat and dropping his gaze only when he saw the rest of the Council seemed to be against him.

"Needless to say, we will continue investigating Evil Fairy," said Kohler. "I'm sure we should have her arrested before long. After all, there's no way they can steal a space cruiser, for God's sake."

"Agreed, sir," replied Stone to the Commander's withering glance. "We have our docks and Defense Force facilities on earth secured. Evil Fairy can't hide from Kohler's security forces forever."

"Thank you," nodded the Commander.

"Now, what do we do?" asked Weiner.

"Wait...for further intelligence from the Star Force," said Kohler. "Such as, what our enemies might be up to."

"Shall we adjourn?" asked Singleton.

"Yes," said Sandberg. "Especially as we have nothing further to discuss at the moment."

* * *

**IV. RIKASHA**

**The Meeting Hall of the Council of Nine**

**Jak'LAN**** Fortress: Rikala Center**

**Planet Rikasha**

**12 Sha'netz: Warbringer's Year 3218**

**January 10, 2202**

**1025 Hours space-time**

* * *

One of the ironies of Destiny was that just as the Earth Defense Council was adjourning its meeting in the Megalopolis, the Ruling Council of Nine of the Planet Rikasha and the Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Union was just beginning the 802nd War Meeting of the Lord Zaden's reign. At that hour of the morning in the Megalopolis, the business day of the city was just beginning to come into swing. However, here, a white-robed muezzin on one of the sand-colored minarets of the Great Temple, not far from the Jak'LAN Fortress, was calling the rather superstitious populace of the Rikashan capital city of Rikala to evening prayer to the Rikashan gods. This prayer was tended to by the priests of the R'Khell priesthood, especially the Warbringer, the Lord Ekogaru. 

As far as they were concerned, they would have a good deal to pray about this morning. Mother Rikasha, the center of this strange, warlike, Empire, was a planet that only a lunatic would consider a paradise.

Located far in the northwestern regions of the Milky Way Galaxy, far from the galactic core and over 80,000 lightyears away from Earth, Rikasha was a hot, dry, dusty world for the most part. It had once been blue and beautiful like Earth, but the Great Wars that had occurred over 3200 years ago had changed all of that.

Ekogaru had caused the Great Wars long ago in his bid to become absolute master of Rikasha. His war had become nuclear in a hurry and had ruined the planet. Now, most of the planet was a desert, even though there _were_ a few salty seas scattered here and there, and the planet even had a few rivers and fresh-water lakes.

But, water was a rare and precious thing on Rikasha. The lack of it was one of the things that had driven the forces of the resurgent, mutated Rikashan race deep into space to build a new, barbaric Empire on the ashes of the once-peaceful Confederacy that Rikasha had dominated ages ago in the days of its enlightenment.

The Rikashan Empire was ruled by a Council of Nine that was headed by a nominally all-powerful figure known as the Lord of Rikasha. However, like any other Rikashan, the Lord had to kowtow to the powerful, established forces of the state religion, headed by its High Priestess, the Prophetess, the only woman who had the right to sit on the Council of Nine with the men.

Outside, the muezzin continued to chant, with the sound carrying through to this underground Council Chamber by way of a speaker that sat near the black throne at the head of the council table.

"_Grrrrrahhhhhak_ that sound is annoying me. Don't those R'Khell caste fanatics ever _shut the hell_ up?" said the throne's occupant as he reached up to tickle the lazily kicking bare foot of the light orange-skinned girl who was sitting in his large, fat lap feeding him the Rikashan equivalent of grapes from a silver platter.

"M'Lord, the Priestess won't like it if..."

"Trala, the Priestess isn't _here yet_. And by no means, I wager, is she aware enough to know that I'm just shutting the muezzin off so I can hear you giggle as I tickle you under thy little veil. _Take it off again, wenchling!_"

Trala shut off the speaker and giggled again as the Lord T'Grish Zaden, the dusky orange-brown skinned political and military ruler of the Empire, poked her through her little garment: a translucent shift-like garment that fell daintily over her otherwise naked shoulders and form like a nymph's veil.

Trala was rather cute: she was about Nova Wildstar's height, build, and age, with a very pretty mane of sable hair that flew everywhere as she laughed, more or less covering up a few bits of her that the poncho didn't.

Zaden, on the other hand, looked absolutely nothing _like_ Nova Wildstar. For one thing, he was, of course, male. For another thing, he looked rather gross for a royal head of state. He was about thirty years older than the young Baron Anton Cha'rif, and he looked it.

Lord Zaden was a wasted-looking figure, with drooping jowls, a limp dark mustache. He also had, a greasy, half-bald pate, triple chin and quadruple gut that not even his braided pure white uniform or sable cloak could hide. His piggish green-on-green eyes glittered as he looked down at Trala.

With an evil leer, he began to let his hand run down Trala's stomach until he reached the place where the hem of her mini-shift had hiked up as she had kicked. Just as his hand crept near Trala's usually hidden pleasures, the door to the chamber whizzed open.

"Having _fun,_ m'lord?" hissed the figure who walked in. He was a bearded, wild-haired man whose single eye gleamed with a fanatical glee, with the glee of his other maimed eye long ago hidden behind his dark eyepatch. He was Lecha Voton, the First Marshal of Rikasha. Clad in a white and blue uniform similar to Zaden's, he was the head of the Empire's armed forces. He was not being disrespectful to Zaden, for he and T'Grish were old friends.

"Aye," growled Zaden in a deep voice that sounded like a bullfrog's croak. "Do you want to dispute me? You want her, you old filth?" he said with a chuckle.

"Just wondering, M'Lord. Wasn't it lads in their twenties you fancied last meeting?"

"_He_ was an exception. Slaughtered him myself, too, right in my bedchamber. Then he was prepared for feasting. Didn't know what hit him," roared Zaden.

"So _that's_ what we ate at Duke Ti'inan's palace that night!" snarled Voton as he recalled this latest example of decadence among some of the Rikashan upper class. The Rikashan nobility was now becoming suffused with a moral corruption that could have made the decadence of the ancient Terran Imperial courts of Nero or Caligula seem tame in comparison.

Trala gritted her teeth a little, wondering if she'd ever find herself in that kind of a situation. After a moment, though, she judged she was safe for the present as the other members of the Council came in.

Duke J'hirel Daka, one of the six Great Dukes who habitually sat on the Council as heads and representatives of the esteemed Great Houses of this semi-feudal Empire, came in next. He was the head of the Empire's planetary defense forces under Voton's orders. He was also a fat man, but looked a bit more dignified than Zaden, given that he had a snowy white beard and wild hair. He was also the head of the M'hellard Duchy on Rikasha, a region that comprised the great warship yards and research and design plants both on and off the planet on other planetary bases of the Empire. He wore a grey uniform like Voton's.

Duke Oab Katros came in behind him. He was a longhaired, thin-faced man with an evil grin and a scarred face. He was quite devious and brutal, being the head of the _D'lakharrizul_, or the DLH; the Empire's state secret police.

His province, the K'Tranchia Duchy, contained many of the mines and great irrigated plantations on and off-planet the Empire planet depended upon, and he was also the single biggest slaveholder in the Empire. He had a nasty habit of paroling many of his own prisoners by buying them, hence "mercifully" setting them free from the concentration camps while forcing them to work for him in his mines or farms.

Behind Katros came Duke-_Kalif_ Argen V'chel. Duke V'chel was a black-clad _R'jkharraz_ mystic, and he was a thin-faced bald man who didn't speak up that much at these meetings except to offer insights of various kinds. His planetary realm, the fiefdom of Sh'radaga, was largely open desert filled with wandering Bedouin-like tribesmen who still lived off the land with the flocks as they did in the old days. His planetary fiefs were also largely desert, and, of all the Dukes, he was the one who occupied his palace in his capital of Takandrah the least, preferring to wander either the Sea of Stars with his fleet or the Rikashan dunes seeking insights. Lately, very few people knew what this mystic thought of things, for he had become closer than ever.

Next, there came the gross, fat figure of His Majestic Eminence, (by his own proclamation), the Duke Micran Sh'rande. This huge, waddling Duke, whose face was covered with oozing boils, came accompanied by a nine-year old slave boy dressed in a ragged loincloth. Taken from his parents, the boy's sole job was to carry and replenish the tray of breads and food that this strange Duke liked to eat from almost constantly. Sh'rande was being charitable to the boy today, for yesterday, he had made him come into the Council in only his skin. His planetary realms included farms, fishing planets, and the like.

Duke Sh'rande was the leader of Irendorga Province, a rocky, mountainous region known for its snakes, monsters, and other assorted wildlife, as well as for a freshwater river or two that flowed into Sherikhan Duchy. Shr'ande was as piggish with his resources as he was with his food. Not long ago, civil strife had broken out on Rikasha itself between his province and the neighboring Sherikhan Duchy over water rights. The strife had gotten vicious, and had begun to bleed into space warfare between the two semi-autonomous duchies' interstellar territory worlds.

Finally, Zaden's own forces had to enter the border region to put an end to it while Sh'rande and the Duke of Sherikhan Duchy were "encouraged" to sign a peace agreement by Zaden and Katros. Most of the other nobles thought that Sh'rande would be a prime target for assassination if he didn't change his tune shortly. However, he seemed to amuse Zaden.

Duke V'Ghel Denstra came in next. The youngest of the Dukes and almost a member of the lower echelon of the Empire's Dukes, who only held one or two worlds each, he was a clean-shaven man in his late forties. His province, the Olvarria Duchy, was a trading province, and he appreciated rapid, swift military actions that would further the homeworld's trade with other planets within the Imperial Union.

Duke Katros also had a nice, big dossier on this smart young upstart. In this dossier, he considered Denstra a potential threat to Zaden's rule, but not much of a threat at present, since he was a man of learning who currently kept quiet.

Finally, the last of the current six Great Dukes strode in. He was Duke Sta'gin Cha'rif, the elderly, white-mustachioed ruler of Sherikhan Duchy, which bordered the Capital Region of Rikala.

His Duchy contained both a salt sea and a freshwater lake, and was one of the more pleasant Duchies of the planet. The same held for the lands he held off-planet as part of his Duchy, as did all of the others, but his House administered some of the richest planets of the Empire, and the best run. Some thought that Sherikhan Duchy could someday well be a great stellar Empire in its own right if it ever broke free from Rikasha.

Sherikhan Duchy was also one of the more internally peaceful Duchies of the Empire, for Duke Cha'rif ruled in a somewhat more just manner than many of the others.

While Katros considered him a threat, the old Duke was at least careful enough to obey the laws and offer loyalty to his kinsman, T'Grish Zaden. However, recently, Cha'rif had rued the day he had supported Zaden's bid for the throne twenty-two years ago rather than accepted the throne that he had been offered at that time but rejected because he had then felt himself too old to become ruler at fifty-three. There were times that he felt his heir, Anton, could handle the job he had left undone, but he had voiced that thought to few as of yet...not even to his own son. He knew how news traveled in this dark Empire.

Trala got up off Lord Zaden's lap and begged leave to go as the other Dukes filed in. Zaden dismissed her with a curt nod, motioning to a side door. She bowed, took the grape-like fruit, and tiptoed out with a barefoot grace totally unlike the leaden walks of the booted feet of the members of the Council, all except one, whose presence they were awaiting as they stood behind their seats.

As the last of the Dukes came in, Zaden himself flicked on the speaker again and made sure his throne was facing towards the portal, although he didn't get up from it.

The automatic black doors whizzed open a moment later and all of the members of the Council save Zaden bowed their heads in reverence as the final member of the Council appeared.

Her walk was graceful, although it was a walk that meant business..

She was Marda, the High Priestess and Prophetess of the Rikashan religion and leader of the R'Khell caste whose representatives had just created so much havoc near Earth. Unlike the others, she now wore a burgundy uniform that served her as a minidress. She wore a short black cape, black open-toed gladiator boots, and walked in holding her silver helmet and face-mask, decorated with its blue plume. Her delicate orange-skinned Rikashan features were beautiful, and her hair was dark and pretty enough that few people knew or guessed she was a Technomugar cyborg like Gralnacz. And, unknown to most of the Council, she was Ekogaru's physical as well as spiritual eyes within this Council chamber, for she was in psionic contact with her Overlord at the moment, being the sole Technomugar there.

Zaden, unknown to even himself, had recently become a puppet Lord of a High Council manipulated by someone else and a quisling ruler surviving on borrowed time. For, soon, the day would come when Lord Ekogaru himself would reclaim Rikasha...in person...as his own personal capital for the Milky Way he expected to have under his heel in less than a millenium. Then, Zaden would only be useful for the new Overlord of the Milky Way as a toy.

Everyone kept their heads bowed until Marda sat down, banging her staff once on the floor as she did so. Then, after a pause, she turned to Zaden and said, "What is your bidding, My Lord?"

"I would know the will of the gods, so that we can be guided today."

"They are not pleased: and the Warbringer, in particular is not pleased with our race. For behold, I have been in touch with Him and with our _R'jkharraz_, including he who is in command there from afar, even though his enemies have not yet met him. I mean thy son, Duke, Cha'rif. We have suffered a grave defeat today. Many of my loyal paladins, my priest-warriors who wear the scarlet and the burgundy that I wear have come to grief and have gone to their ends. And, this is all due to _one ship_."

Marda stood, pointing her right hand towards the center of the table. Her eyes glowed for a minute before a bolt of blue light shot forth from her hand. The light beam stopped over the center of the table, and widened into a ball of light that dimmed into a three-dimensional astral projection of space. Finally, in the middle of that astral projection, a space battleship appeared as it cruised through space.

"I am not sure if all of you have seen this ship, yet," intoned Marda as she continued in her aristocratic, cultured soprano. "This, my nobles, is the Terran space battleship _Argo_. The Warbringer himself has noticed this ship, and He curses it, for it interferes with His interests on Pellias! With all respect to the Duke Cha'rif, it defeated a major part of the Fourth Sherikhan Group all by itself. Yet, do not blame the young Baron, for he was not there directly at the time, even though he ordered the attack in a rash manner. I only hope he can redeem himself in the next few days."

"Will he?" demanded Voton.

"That has not been given unto me, my friend," said Marda with barely disguised contempt.

"What is the current state of the Fourth Sherikhan Group?" asked Katros.

"They're at war," said Marda.

"What?" said Zaden. "I didn't give your kid permission to start a new holy war, Sta'gin!" snapped Zaden. "Or maybe the clergy _really_ did it?" he snapped, leering at Marda. "With all respect to His Name, Marda, your R'Khell caste seems to be a bloody lot of varlets! Why don't they leave these little planets alone?"

"My Lord says that the Baron began this on his own," said Marda. "Yet, my caste is using his impetuosity for our greater good," smiled Marda. Unknown to everyone else, she was lying through her teeth, for _she_ had incited the R'Khell priests to attack Earth without any orders from Baron Cha'rif himself! Baron Cha'rif, so far, was only in the area to guard Pellias.

"Lord, spare the Baron. He means well," pleaded Sta'gin Cha'rif.

"Spared," coughed Zaden. "Your boy's useful to us, even if he's crazy," said Zaden as he twirled a finger next to his temple. Some of the assembled Dukes laughed. A stare from Marda silenced the laughter.

"M'Lord. The Baron currently has forty-two ships remaining in the Pellias region," said Duke Cha'rif. "He has requested reinforcement of an extra thirty ships to make up for this loss, and I will send those to him from our Duchy, if the Lord grants me leave to do so."

"Granted," snapped Zaden. "Now, how are his forces disposed?"

"I was told just before this meeting," said the Duke Cha'rif, "...that the Baron is preparing a carrier task force of twenty vessels to pursue the _Argo_ and hound her with its planes, if needed. This is just as he has been doing with other Terran forces elsewhere near the region of Terra. However, he hopes to obviate the need for further attacks by convincing the crew of the _Argo_, known as the Star Force, of his good intentions. Then he hopes to "withdraw" for a time to protect Pellias, from which he hopes to lure the Star Force away from. He needs these additional forces as surety in case things go wrong. I agreed to this when we last spoke, Lord. Hence, a second small squadron of ten ships, led by the battlecruiser _H'Jana_, will leave the sector tomorrow, and will head back towards the Empire, hopefully to be joined by _B'eoneraze_ herself as she escorts the _Argo_ or simply any captured prisoners from the _Argo_ towards the Empire and Rikasha. The remaining twelve ships, aided by the thirty reinforcements we sent, will continue to secure Pellias until the planet explodes due to its own forces."

"What will the Baron do then?" said Zaden.

"Then, he anticipates returning to Durakalis Base with his fleet. After he receives the requisite victory celebrations, he begs leave to take all of the Sherikhan Groups except the Fifth and Seventh, and he begs leave for reinforcements so he can begin a new conquest in earnest, extending our territory even further and squelching this threat to our lowest flanks."

"What does he beg leave to attack?" asked Voton.

"Terra itself, my Marshal," said Cha'rif with a bow. "He feels that it can be dealt with through diplomacy, showing his force as a threat, or by quick attack. Their forces are small, and they have just barely kept their freedom after a major war with forces from the Andromeda Galaxy. They were aided in the last minute by a remnant of a once-mighty force they defeated from the Great Magellenic Cloud, known as Gamilon."

"So that's what happened to the Gamilons?" laughed Zaden. "Their mighty Empire brought down by one world! I guessed someday that we'd have to deal with Andromeda, but to think this Earth took care o' Gamilon for us? Sta'gin, forget fighting Earth! Let's just give them medals and wealth and bribes and so forth and have them join up with us," laughed Zaden.

"That is not easily done," sniffed Marda. "Most Terrans have high, lofty moral principles. Unlike you, my Lord."

"He wants to go after _Earth?_" snorted Katros. "With the six hundred and fifty ships he is requesting, I wager he could clean them up in a week. It scarcely bears asking us about it."

"Duke Katros," intoned Marda. "Unlike you, the young Baron has respect for his elders and betters."

"Priestess, what do the omens say?" asked Zaden.

"We must keep the Earth ship _Argo_ from Pellias. If it reaches that world, it shall learn secrets not meant for mortals to know there that would ruin us and our hopes of galactic conquest! For the time is coming when we will attack Terra in force, but not with a _few_ ships. The _Argo_ would ruin these plans."

"True?" asked Zaden.

"True, " said Marda. "The attack should wait until the Advent draws closer. For reasons of His own, the Warbringer desires that Earth be displayed as an example to this Galaxy of His power and might at the right time. He has decreed that after He gains what He needs from the planet, He will either allow us to enslave it or take the homeworld Himself as a sacrifice, leaving us the rest of the Sol system and its surrounding star systems as bases. What His will is on this is uncertain; but He has decreed its final conquest must wait."

"So be it," said Zaden. "I agree with your advice, Priestess. To please the Warbringer, we shall wait on His will," he said as he thought _Uggghhhh__, what claptrap. Still, she's good at tricks, and she gets us useful information in her wanderings. That's why I let this crazy desert rat wander around the galaxy. It's fun_

"Lordship," said V'chel as he broke his silence. "With all respect to Her Eminence, I would beg you not to move too hastily. While I understand the devotion to the Warbringer she has, we must also be prudent. We must not sacrifice too much for the gods."

"I think you are irreverent," snapped Marda.

"No, prudent, Lady."

"Do you oppose me?" asked Marda softly. "Do you wish to call me out in a duel?"

Even Zaden shivered at the thought of that idea, knowing that if these two fought, it would be no ordinary duel, but a psionic one that might possibly devastate a city of two on the planet, as other such duels had done in the dark post-war history of Rikasha.

"Nay, Lady," said V'chel as he stood and bowed to the Priestess. "You are wise: the Warbringer is wise: but I advise additional caution and prudence: that is all."

"So be it," she said after she locked eyes with him for a moment. "We shall let this impertinence pass. Let us end this meeting, Lordship."

"So be it," said Zaden. "We have our grand strategy. Terra shall be taken, but only at the right time. In the meantime, we must keep the _Argo_ from getting to Pellias to meddle in the Warbringer's business. We must keep them from interfering with the glorious future planned for us by the Gods! Is that clear? Then we must attack Terra at the right time and deal with the ragtag remnants of the late, lamented, Gamilon Empire. The forces of Terra and Gamilon must be crushed either at or soon after our War God's Second Coming! Then, at that time, after our enemies are defeated at long last, the **GALAXY SHALL BELONG TO RIKASHA AND ITS GODS! RIKA'JA DE, KIRADA!**"

"**RIKA'JA DE, KIRADA! "** yelled all of the others as they banged on the table and screamed the war cry which meant "_May Rikasha drink the Blood of its Enemies!_ The chant grew so maniacal that soon, even the near naked slave boy of Duke Sh'rande was taking up the chant, jumping and capering about as he screamed with the others.

Of course, no one objected.

And, far away, since he was seeing the scene through Marda's eyes, the cyborg and so-called "God" known as Ekogaru the Great smiled_. Wonderful!. I have these fools eating from the palm of my hand like trained animals_, he sneered to himself.

* * *

**V. THE PRISONER**

**January 10, 2202**

**Triton Base: Main Interrogation Suite**

**1030 Hours space-time**

* * *

From the _Argo_, Peale, who was from the Intelligence Section of the Living Group, stood near the chair in which the captured R'Khell trooper sat, bound and blindfolded. The enemy prisoner was quite an imposing figure. He bore a short haircut and strong features. A hint of a dueling scar was visible near one blindfolded eye. He was bare-chested, and wore only a pair of standard blue EDF uniform slacks, which contrasted sharply against his more-or-less Caucasian-colored skin, which had a slight orange tint. 

"All hands, Ten'SHUN!" snapped Captain Wildstar as the Titan Base Commander, Commodore Pier Van der Hoven, came into the room accompanied by four members of his staff. He was a tall man with a brown mustache, and he wore the standard blue peacoat of a Base Commander.

"At ease, ladies and gentlemen," said Van der Hoven. "Captain Wildstar, let me extend my greetings to you and the observers from the Star Force, including your Intelligence Officer."

"Thank you, sir," said Captain Wildstar.

"With no disrespect to you or your officers, I hope, I have placed Lieutenant Commander Hal Traynor, the assistant to the Base Intelligence Officer, in charge of this interrogation. Your Intelligence Officer, as Traynor told him, will be here to observe and assist, along with Doctor Sane and your Lieutenant Wildstar, whom, I am led to understand, is an excellent nurse familiar with such interrogations."

"Thank you, sir," said Derek.

"Before we begin, you can speak with your staff while I speak with mine," said Van der Hoven. "I trust they have an excellent view in the observation gallery," he said, gesturing up towards the widows in which many officers and enlisted men from the _Argo_ and other ships stood watching the proceedings along with personnel from the Base.

"They do. The arrangement looks similar to that which we used in our operating theatre when we interrogated the first captured Gamilon in 2199. We used a similar arrangement when we interrogated Mezar from the Comet Empire last year, sir."

Van der Hoven nodded. "Then I read your reports correctly, Captain. Good! We'll be starting shortly."

* * *

Up in the observation gallery, Ember Tyson, the Captain of the _Colin Powell_, leaned against a window as she looked down at the prisoner. "So _that's_ what they look like, Chen," she said to her Communications Officer. "He's got muscles on top of his muscles, the killer." 

"Yeah, I hear they're killers, all right, ma'am," said Chen.

Mark Venture showed up a moment later, walking along with Holly Parsons. Parsons looked a little different, being in civilian dress at the moment.

"Sir, I understand you're Mark Venture," said Tyson.

"And _you_ are...?" asked Venture.

"Lieutenant Ember Tyson, the new skipper of the space frigate _Colin Powell_. Is she a...friend of yours?"

Holly twirled in her skirt and replied. "My name is Junior Lieutenant Holly Parsons. I'm here in place of Eager Kendall, who was injured a few days ago. Hear anything about how he's doing?"

"I know a friend of his," said Tyson. "He just got out of the Hospital yesterday, but he's still on medical leave. I like your jacket, skirt, and sandals, by the way," referring to Holly's outfit, in pink, gold, and white, with a pink ribbon tying back her ponytail (she usually wore a green one that went with her green and white uniform). "Special occasion?"

"Called my parents before. My mother hates seeing me in uniform and she bought me this jacket," smiled Holly as she spun around in her monogrammed pink jacket, tan blouse, and white skirt. "Some of this is borrowed. I just pulled it together at the last moment and borrowed the shoes from Lieutenant Wildstar. If I break a heel, I'll owe her thirty credits."

"I'll deal with Nova for you," laughed Venture.

"You two look pretty chummy," teased Tyson.

"Well, we work together," countered Venture. "She's handling Kendall's post; our battle radar."

"Since Venture was busy earlier, I maneuvered the _Argo_ into dock, too," said Parsons.

"Not in that skirt, I hope," called out someone from the Base. Everyone had a laugh before looking down at the prisoner again.

"God, is he _ugly_," muttered someone.

"Double ugly," laughed Chen.

"Is that who we're fighting now?" asked someone else.

Venture just nodded. "Cut the chatter, you guys. It looks like they're getting ready. They're putting the interrogation transducer on his head now."

"Wonder if he even speaks our language?" asked someone else.

Hardy came up, shaking his head in anger. "Oh, they speak ouh language, all right. Conroy told me. Wish they'd give me a free punch at that guy."

"You and me both, sir," said someone from the _Erwin Rommel_. "You and me both."

* * *

"Who's doing the Medical work since Doc Sane isn't, Peale?" whispered Captain Wildstar. 

"Doctor M'ben Kitara, a medical officer with the EDF rank of Captain from the Medical School at Central Hospital," replied Peale, pointing at a very tall African, a man almost two meters tall, in a white lab coat whom Doctor Sane was talking to. "They just brought him in aboard a cruiser this morning. He's the top surviving specialist from the Afro States. He spent some years in the Sudan, Libya and Egypt before the Gamilon war. He's quite an intellectual giant, and his hobby is Egyptology."

"Why is he here?" asked Wildstar.

"The preliminary exams indicated that the R'Khell might be from a very dry, hot world, Derek." said Nova as she came up in her Medical uniform, holding a clipboard. "I guess Earth Defense thought that if anyone would know about someone from a desert planet, he would," added Nova. "Also, I've got to keep on my toes around him, Derek," she whispered in an aside.

"Why?"

"If I ever go to medical school at Central Medical School someday, he's head of the first-year curriculum and the program. I can't look bad in front of him, Derek. He'd remember it."

Derek just nodded. "You'd better get back over there."

Right," said Nova. "Sir, is there anything you require?" asked Nova as she turned to Kitara.

"Nurse, you'll assist us. Be sure to handle the basic jobs at _my_ direction," said Kitara in his deep voice. "I trust you can handle that?" he smiled.

"Yessir."

"Excellent. Make sure he's securely attached to the interrogation chair, and then remove his blindfold. Take care, Nurse. He is still quite dangerous."

"Sir, he's bound," said Nova.

Still, Nova looked a little scared as she removed the trooper's blindfold and noticed his green-on-green eyes staring into hers with hatred.

"Tell me, woman, are you _available_ later?" hissed the prisoner.

"What?" gasped Nova in a whisper.

"Where I come from, the only women in the military are priestesses and prostitutes. With your short dress, you look like the latter," he said with a leering smile. "You look ravishing, girl."

Nova gritted her teeth and said nothing. Ignoring the prisoner, she turned to Doctor Kitara and said, "Sir, we know he can understand our language. It should help the interrogation."

"You will learn nothing from me of military significance save my name, rank, and a few minor statements. I have made sure to live for a political and religious purpose," rumbled the trooper.

"Silence. I am in charge here, prisoner," snapped Traynor. "Begin recording! Doctor Kitara, the medical reports, first. Recite them for the record."

"Yes. Doctor Sane and I examined the prisoner together while he was sedated. He was slightly wounded, but his condition is stable thank to surgery which we feel will be successful. His cranial capacity, arrangement of internal organs, and blood chemistry are similar to our own. His genetic structure matches not our own, but is closer to that of Iscandarians. However, his skeletal and muscular structure, while similar to ours and those of other races we have seen before, differs from ours in being slightly more massive and developed than our own. My estimate is that he is from a world with a slightly larger diameter than that of Earth and probably about 1.27 G's worth of sustained gravitational force. His kidneys appear to be more efficient at processing water than our own, as does his lower bowel. His sweat glands are apparently more efficient than our own and are used to dealing with higher temperatures, and his melanin has mutated in the presence of radiation in a manner similar to that observed in Gamilons and Cometines. Further, there are structures in his brain which I do not understand. My conclusion is that he began as basically human stock, but has adapted to withstand conditions on a hotter and drier world than Earth with a larger diameter than Earth and a higher close-radiation content, for reasons we do not understand. His strength is formidable, and he is of average intelligence. He seems to be conversant in two forms of his linguistic stock, as well as our language. How he acquired knowledge of our language is unknown. Commander Traynor, you may begin."

"Thank you, sir," said Traynor. "Who are you?"

"Ki'ven Duno is my name," said the enemy trooper. "In your tongue and military structure, my rank would be Sergeant. I was a squad leader in charge of ten men. That is all I shall tell you about my military mission, save for one final statement which I desire to make to the Captain of the space battleship you call _Argo._ However, I have a personal and political statement to make to you."

"Which is?" asked Traynor.

"You...shall see," whispered the prisoner, who was smiling.

"Doctor Kitara," said Nova from a monitor nearby. "Doctor Sane says his heart rate's going up."

"I have power to control it, and other things beyond your ken," said the prisoner as he began to breathe deeply. "Your name, Captain of the _Argo_?"

"He doesn't need to tell you that," barked Traynor. "You are the one we are interrogating."

"Doctor, his brain wave patterns are changing," called out Doctor Sane. "Look at this."

"I will make a trade," gasped the prisoner. "You tell me my enemy's name, and I will speak more to you, and I will deal differently with my enemy."

Derek walked up. "Duno, my name is Derek Wildstar," he said. "Have you any requests to make of us?"

"Come closer," he gasped. Suddenly, everyone could see the prisoner trembling in the seat.

"_Doctor_!" cried Nova. "His heart patterns are changing! Can we bring him out of this?"

"Hmmm...we can defibrillate him if we have to," said Sane. "Get the unit ready!"

"Yes," said Nova as she turned to the crash cart.

Kitara ran over. "You're right, nurse. It looks bad. Code him!"

Nova ran over with the crash cart while Derek stood nearby. Traynor moved back.

The prisoner smiled, and, suddenly, the mechanism holding one of his arms loosened.

Captain Wildstar moved to hold his arm down as Nova ran up with the defib paddles, but the prisoner abruptly struck him in the chest. Derek drew his weapon, but the enemy trooper knocked the astro-automatic out of Wildstar's hand. The enemy soldier cried, "YOU SCUM!" and spat out a mixture of blood and saliva that hit Wildstar in the face as he fell. At that, the doors to the interrogation suite opened, and two enlisted men ran in with drawn weapons, ready to back up Wildstar, Nova and Traynor.

"Derek!" cried Nova. "Are you all right?'

"Yes," gasped Wildstar as Traynor helped him to his feet. "Nova, the paddles..."

Nova moved in, but she was punched in the chest and knocked to the deck by the enemy alien.

As the armed enlisted men moved in to help her and Wildstar, assisted by Traynor, the trooper roared, "I am R'Khell and _R'jkharraz_! I die and go to my gods, but you scum shall become carrion and slaves when my people are finished with you! You shall soon be slaves of the Rikashan/R'Khell Union and shortly, the galaxy shall belong to Rikasha and its gods! _May Rikasha drink the Blood of its Enemies!"_

At that, the troopers' eyes went vacant, and he slipped into eternity with a smile. Derek then turned to his wife. "Nova!"

"No, I'm all right," gasped Nova as Derek and the troopers helped her up. "I've still got to try saving the prisoner! We need to know what he can tell us!" She applied the paddles and called out, "CLEAR!"

The defib device went off, and the prisoner's corpse jumped in its restraints. There was no response. "I'll try again!" cried Nova. "Clear!"

The corpse jumped again. No response.

"CLEAR!" gasped Nova, as she tried one more time. The body jumped again. No response.

She checked his pulse. "No pulse, Doctor Kitara!"

The troopers stood over him with their guns pointed at him. "Back, ma'am," said one of them.

"I don't know he got that restraint open," said Traynor. "This might be a trick."

"No, the EEG is a clear flatline," said Kitara. "Put down your guns, gentlemen. This prisoner is dead. How he did it, only Heaven knows."

"Suicide," said Captain Wildstar after he picked up his gun. "He was a prisoner, and being taken alive was a grave dishonor to many of our soldiers, including my own ancestors from Great Island. I'd love to know how he did it," gasped Derek as he held his chest. "Are _you_ all right?" he asked, turning to Nova.

"Probably bruised up, like you."

"You two are both going to the base hospital, and _now_! " snapped Doctor Sane. "You might have broken ribs."

"This one, too," said Kitara as he checked the R'Khell corpse. "He'll be for the autopsy room, of course."

* * *

A few minutes later, Captain Wildstar sat in only pajama bottoms on an examining table in the Base Hospital as Doctor Sane and another nurse taped up his chest. 

"Why are you doing this?" he protested.

"That x-ray looks suspicious. You might have sprung a rib," snapped Doctor Sane. "How idiotic of you, trying to fight a big lunkhead like that! With the way you act, no wonder I like my drinking! You young fools drive me to it!"

"Doctor, should I get that blood wiped off him?" asked the nurse.

"Don't do it," gasped Nova as she ran over barefoot in a hospital shift. "We might need to take a sample."

"YOU sit down, Nova! You're my other patient, you fool!"

"Doctor, we need to analyze this. If she wipes this off with a tissue, it'll ruin the sample!" cried Nova. "We need a Schweiker kit!"

"Uh...who do I listen to?" said the other nurse, looking back and forth between Nova and Doctor Sane.

"Listen to the one who's fully dressed," snapped Sane. "Nova, get that tail of yours _back _on that examining table," he said as he took her by the hand.

"Or what?" said Nova.

"Or I'll get your shift off and examine you right in front of the Captain, young lady!" rejoined Sane.

"So?" said Nova. "He's my husband and we don't have any secrets."

"That's right...I forgot that. Miss Parkinson, get that Schweiker kit. Maybe that'll calm down my other patient."

"Good, now you're using your head," said Nova. She let go of Doctor Sane's hand and pointedly sat down by herself. "Don't you be mean to Derek, now."

"Nova, he deserves it for risking his life like that. And so do _you_, young lady."

"Yeah, right," huffed Nova. "All I've got is a bruise!"

"I still have to get a good look at that tooth you jarred in that battle three days back," said Sane. "You are getting a full physical, Nova."

Nova just looked over her shoulder and gave Doctor Sane and Derek a dirty look.

"We're both at his mercy, Nova," shrugged Derek. "What can I do right now?"

"Shut up and let me examine you," said Doctor Sane.

"I was afraid of that," said Derek.

* * *

A while later, Derek tucked back in the ascot on his uniform while Nova stood with her foot on a stool zipping a Medical boot back up. 

"At least the exam's over," said Derek. "We didn't fare that badly."

"Lucky you," said Nova in a slightly funny voice. "Leath your tonguth not numb like mine."

"Which tooth was it?"

Nova opened her mouth and pointed at a lower incisor. "It felt better later that day. Turnth out it wath thill a tad looth."

"Good thing that prisoner didn't kill us with that...power of his."

Nova nodded. "We were lucky."

"I hope all of them aren't like that. When should that novocaine wear off?"

"An hour. Juth my luck. Nova geth the novocaine, you juth get taped up."

"This tape isn't fun either."

"I've got too thee Doc Thane again in an hour and a half, and all I get for lunth ith thoup. _Merde_," smiled Nova.

"I'll eat some soup with you," smiled Derek. "They've got ramen at the base messhall today."

"Okay," said Nova.

"I wish we could find out more about that prisoner," said the Captain. "I've got to report to the Commander."

"We might find more later," said Doctor Sane. "They will autopsy him. Providing he's still dead, that is," he added.

Neither Derek nor Nova thought that sounded all too promising_. What sort of powers did he have?_ thought Captain Wildstar. _And what if they're all like that?_

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT FOUR--"BARON CHA'RIF'S TREACHERY"**


	4. Chapter 4

ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF

Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz

* * *

ACT FOUR--THE TREACHERY OF BARON CHA'RIF

* * *

I. THE BARON AND THE ADMIRAL.

January 10, 2202.

1300 Hours, space-time

The Edge of the Solar System

The R'Khell spacecraft carrier _T'Rend_a, accompanied by the battlecruiser _Ren'velze_ and its cruisers as well as by its own eight destroyers, and four cruisers, had just come out of warp a moment ago at the edge of the solar system before the mighty flagship of the Fourth Sherikhan Group.

This vessel was the Rikashan space battleship _B'eoneraze_, which was the personal flagship of Baron Anton Cha'rif, the Commandant of the Task Group, and commanding officer in charge of the entire operation in this sector of what all hoped would someday be Rikashan space.

Soon, a small shuttle boat rocketed down one of the _T'Renda's_ flight decks, namely, the one under its keel. It was a five-man light recon and attack boat that was warp-capable in itself, but Admiral Kierzden didn't care about that at the moment as he slumped unhappily in the boat's command seat with Admiral Minor Gerenze beside him in the communication officer's seat. He had been also been ordered to take the Ren'velze to the rendezvous point with Kierzden, and he had done so.

Neither he nor Gerenze were looking forward to their meeting with Cha'rif, in spite of the fact that they had even managed to bring him a few Terran captives from the _Westhampton Beach_. The atmosphere in the tan and dark red boat was just as foreboding as the appearance of the battleship they were flying towards at the moment.

The _B'eoneraze_ was a warship that made the _T'Renda _and the _Ren'velze_ look puny by comparison. This battleship was 382 meters' worth of floating destruction equipped with far more in the way of guns, missile tubes, and other armament than the _T'Renda_. It was also equipped with a huge fairing in its bow that housed a gaping muzzle; the muzzle of Rikasha's tachyon surge cannon, which was its own equivalent of the wave motion guns of the Earth fleet. This weapon was known as a DI'ATS gun, from its initials in Rikashan. It had a range of twenty-five megameters and a power rating to match its range. 

The _B'eoneraze_ also had a different color scheme than other Rikashan warships, which save for; the R'Khell priests' ships, were usually dark grey. The _B'eoneraze_ was black, with orange trim in strategic places on its hull. Clearly, this battleship was nothing to be trifled with.

Soon, the patrol boat made its landing in the _B'eoneraze's_ main landing bay, and Kierzden and Gerenze were making their way down a ceremonial gauntlet of Rikashan soldiers in black battle armor similar to those suits worn by the R'Khell and the Technomugar. However, the sight of the honor guard or the ceremonial music played over the PA system for their arrival cheered neither of the commanding officers much. They knew that Cha'rif's sense of humor was somewhat...macabre...and they wondered if they were actually coming to their funeral.

Cha'rif was also a powerful psionic, or _R'jkharraz, _in the Rikashan tongue. Because of these powers, Baron Cha'rif was perhaps the second or third-most feared man in the entire Rikashan and R'Khell Empire, behind only Zaden and Katros.

A bearded, elderly grey-haired Rikashan officer, with orange skin and green-on-green eyes in the tan and dark brown tunic and trousers of all of the other officers greeted them with a grave salute. He was General Ter'garv, the Baron's exec, aide-de-camp, and long-time friend. After formalities were exchanged, he said, "Gentlemen, the Baron has already learned of your arrival, and of the reason for your visit. He has already informed me that he will consider the situation with all of the patience he can possibly bring to bear...under the circumstances."

"General," asked Kierzden. "Is he…?"

"Angry? Oh, I think not. Not at this time, since he has had opportunity to reflect upon your loss to the Star Force and the other Terran vessels. He simply awaits you in the briefing room," said the general in a calm voice. "Please follow me."

Soon, after a ride in one of the flagship's main lifts, the three of them strode into the _B'eoneraze's_ main briefing room. The group walked around the black twenty-five-position round table and took their places before a desk with a large rotating seat behind them. At the moment, the chair's back was turned to the group, which stood gazing at a huge silver ideograph decorating the bulkhead behind the seat; the emblem that symbolized the House of Cha'rif. This House was one of the Seven Great Houses of Rikasha, and Baron Cha'rif, the only son of Duke Sta'gin Cha'rif, was heir to a seat on the Ruling Council of the Rikashan Empire itself.

After a moment of silence, Ter'garv spoke. "My Lord Baron, we are here…"

"I know," whispered a deep, cultured, and somewhat arrogant-sounding voice that, to a Terran familiar with Gamilons, sounded somewhat like that of General Lysis.

"I sensed your arrival as I meditated. I am calm, and I am disposed to be patient. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the Gods, Admiral Kierzden."

At that, Cha'rif touched a switch, and his chair swung around to face his visitors.

Anton Cha'rif was far younger than the trio that stood trembling before him. He was only thirty-one years of age in Rikashan years, which came out to about thirty-two in Terran years. He had a thin, well-sculpted, and rather hawklike face, with deep, penetrating eyes that glared at the trio from behind a deep, intelligent brow and two overhanging wings of long dark brown hair that was parted down the middle. His tunic was black, trimmed in grey with a dashing white scarf, unlike those of the others. The deep purple color of his cloak was not due to his military rank, but was a function of his special religious rank in the Rikashan culture. The young Baron held the rank of a priest in the culture of his homeworld because he was a R'jkharraz, which meant "A Gifted One".

Cha'rif's gift happened to be his psionic power, which had been discovered at his birth. At that point, he had immediately been proclaimed a member of the _En'vizide_ school of _R'jkharrazim_ by the priest who had dedicated him. Then, he was hauled off to one of the Order's training schools at the age of two to have his abilities honed and trained under the eye of the Order for the requisite ten years. After that, he had been sent home, where he received his first military training under the eye of Ter'garv, one of his father's men-at-arms, before heading off to the Imperial Academy at thirteen for his officer's training. His powers and years of training and subsequent service had already made this noble a feared figure in the ranks of the Rikashan Imperial military, and for good reason. Everyone knew that it was not wise to insult a _R'jkharraz_, because they usually could hold your life in their hands.

"Let us cease wasting time, gentlemen, and get on with this," said Cha'rif with a dismissive clap of his hands. "Admiral Kierzden, it is my understanding, thanks to the brief report that Commandant Minor Ka'mok sent me, that you have an error of some sort which must be explained to me. Would you be so kind as to explain this little matter that the Warbringer is so ...ah...impatient...about?"

"Baron," gulped Kierzden. "It is like this. WE were patrolling at the edge of our Operations area, at the edge of the Terrans' territorial space, when we first encountered the Terran space battleship _Argo_, Baron. The Prophet Gralnacz of the Technomugar told us that we had to attack it. I…"

"I have never heard of a Prophet Gralnacz, nor have I heard of the Technomugar. Yet, I sense fear in your words. Why is this?"

"It is my story…sir. We believed and knew that Gralnacz was a mighty _R'jkharraz_…and that he is an avatar of the Warbringer. He…"

"Silence, _blasphemer_!" snapped Cha'rif. "Your audacity amazes me, Kierzden. But, go on."

"Well, we were forced to work with this Gralnacz. He ordered a raid of this star system, Baron. Then, our...planes, that is. No, our submarines began an attack, followed by our planes and battlecruisers! My element leader and one patrol element encountered some planes on patrol from the Earth space battleship _Argo_ in their patrol sweep, and they had a battle. Only the Element Leader came back, sir. The others were lost...to the Terrans, some of whom returned to report to their ship and their commander, I would assume. They know of us, sir. They know of our presence to a limited extent. It was an…uh…"

"An accident. Yes, yes. So you say," sighed Cha'rif. "This may be understood by me, that is. That is, if I believed you. I do not believe you. However, to make it worse for you, I was in communication with our head of state, the Lord Zaden. I told him that my senses were in a state of disquiet, and I knew not why. He told me that our operation to guard Pellias could not be compromised. The High Priestess told him as much. But, I didn't need to believe him, and him alone. No, I did not. However, the Gods do not exactly like what happened. Especially since I am led to understand the Star Force was involved, and the Gods, or my senses, I am not sure which, warned me against attacking them. This is an honorable world that you raided, Kierzden. Would you mind telling me what happened then, in your own words?"

"My Baron," said Kierzden. "If Ka'mok has reported to you, I'm aware that you must..."

"Silence, please," said Cha'rif. "I'm sure you understand the need for it. Kindly tell me what happened when you engaged the _Argo_...prematurely…and against all orders save for those of a False Prophet. So prematurely that they saw half your fleet and ate it and spat it out," grinned Cha'rif as he sat back in his chair. "So prematurely that now Earth is aware of us, and as a threat. I did not want it to happen this way, not at all. I would have used other methods to lure them away from Pellias. Peaceful methods. Methods filled with guile and artifice. But, you know nothing of art, do you?"

"My Baron, we were beginning to attack a Terran cruise ship with our submarines, to both test their defenses, bring you prisoners, and slow down the _Argo_, which we discovered was in the area at the time. Since you said you wanted them not to approach Pellias…."

"By my methods, not yours."

"So…we…attacked, we did so, rather than end our operation against the liner. Then."

"So. You confirm what I have heard in my mind from the Higher Ones. Especially from... The Warbringer, in particular..."

"Lord...Ekogaru? You heard from Him again?"

"Don't say His name overly much: it wouldn't be wise to profane Him," said Cha'rif gently. "Not now. You shall need His mercy. He is particularly upset by this development. He told me..."

"I thought...that He only spoke Once to you...and..."

"These are difficult times. The Warbringer has deigned to communicate directly unto me again as I said before, without emissary. His Revelation awes me. He has informed me that we are to keep the element of surprise in regards to our presence at Pellias. They must NOT know that we guard this planet. They must fall into a trap here, if they approach, and perhaps I can talk them into not approaching with my craft in words. He said as much. This incident may make them think otherwise. We must take steps to make sure that they are...ah...deceived? Deceived into a lull of sleep?"

"Baron?" asked Ter'garv. "What are...these steps?"

"Thank you, my friend. A good question. The Terrans must be, as I have been told, deceived as to our motives. To that end, they must think...for a little while...that this attack didn't have much to do with Pellias. We must lull them to sleep with kind words. I must meet with them."

"Meet?" asked Kierzden, who was rather confused. "Where?"

"At a place of my time and meeting. Here?" asked Cha'rif.

"My Baron," whispered Ter'garv. "Would you reconsider? Lord Zaden has ordered us to restrict our operations to this sector. He says our war isn't with the Terrans…yet."

"Not a war of weapons," said Cha'rif. "A war of _nerves_."

"What do you mean?" asked Ter'garv.

"A war of trickery. I come to the Terrans as a friend, which is what I'd like to be, since the Terrans are indeed fighters. I convince them of my friendly intentions, and give them "helpful intelligence" on how dangerous the matter of Pellias is, while apologizing for the actions of our "fanatics" while also warning them that I may not be able to stop such fanatics. If I offer compensation for what we did to them while offering future friendship and influencing them with my powers, we can, perhaps, keep Earth's nose out of this without further bloodshed. Also we will then have an ally for our upcoming hour in which we shall take this region of space into our Empire. Where we need not fight today, we need not fight tomorrow nor need we invade. A good plan?"

"Devious, but workable," said Ter'garv after a moment.

"And that is why people like you are expendable, Kierzden. I don't care whom your loyalty is to, Admiral. You are not a profitable asset, my friend. Lastly, Admiral," added Cha'rif, "It has also been decreed that someone must account for this error that led to this accident to begin with. You understand? I refer to your hastiness in attacking the _Argo_ with all of your strength in haste rather than waiting like a good Admiral. Kierzden, come forth."

"Baron, I..."

Cha'rif turned, holding up a pot of steaming Rikashan coffee, known as _kaf._ He poured two goblets full of the dark, steaming beverage and placed them on a little silver platter, which he ceremonially set on the desk. "Drink with me, Kierzden. This is to show you that I have no personal animus towards you."

"Baron, I," gasped Kierzden.

"You shall drink, and then we shall speak more before your departure."

Kierzden nodded, and he and Cha'rif clinked goblets and drank. After they drank the success of the operation, Cha'rif took back the Admiral's goblet with a grave expression.

"So it goes, Kierzden. Let it at least be said that we parted as friends, you and I. If it were up to me, you would receive only a talking-to, as I gave you. However, I have to follow the words of a Higher Power. I must follow...the words of our titular Master, the Warbringer, our patron God, Ekogaru."

"My Baron, this is…"

"The cult is out in the open, now. All of our soldiers will soon have to swear to serve Him, by the words of Zaden himself. His Word shall be law. As a priest and a R'jkharraz, I have heard the Word, and His Word, unfortunately, has told me that you must pay for your little mistake. So must the blame be laid."

"Baron...I," whispered Kierzden.

"I'm sorry, Gi'vel Kierzden, my one-time friend. I shall tell your wife you died in battle, at least. HE won't mind a small lie to keep your honor intact. But, you must pass from our sight now. I am sorry, but it must be so."

At that, Cha'rif walked over to a shaking Kierzden from behind his desk. The trembling Admiral began to whimper as Cha'rif placed his hand on his forehead.

The Baron shut his eyes and his thin face tensed up in a sort of grimace. His grip tightened a little around Kierzden's forehead, and the older officer began to tremble even harder, and he began to whimper.

The whimpers turned to cries, and then to wails as an agonizing headache began to thrum inside his skull. Soon, his whole body shook, as if he was being electrocuted by Cha'rif's touch. Smoke began to curl up from his hair. He fell gasping to the deck. A kneeling Cha'rif let go of his head and whispered, "Fare thee well, Kierzden. I meant you no harm, and I shall pray for your soul."

At that, the body of Kierzden went still. Ter'garv knelt, taking the Admiral's pulse, and he whispered. "Baron, he's dead."

"So it goes," said Cha'rif. "Gerenze, you shall take over for him. You are promoted to full Admiral, and you have the command of the task force. As I said, all in due time. If you can go after the Star Force itself in a small raid as if you were just brigands, should it be needed, it will please me. You can be our "fanatics". Anything to stop them and hold them back without...pissing all your strength away like he did...or making them suspect TOO much! Anything to deceive them. In the meantime, our presence must, for now, remain, hidden. Your force shall leave soon, in the next day or so. We shall keep in touch with you, as required for minimal communications. But then, things shall change, Ter'garv. Go now, Gerenze."

"Yessir," said a shaken Admiral, who wasn't entirely happy with how he had gained his…promotion. He left, passing a pair of guards who came in to haul away Kierzden's corpse.

Soon, Cha'rif and Ter'garv were left alone in the briefing room.

"Baron, was that necessary?"

"Yes. It was. HE said so. I'm truly sorry for Kierzden, but that was how it HAD to go."

"Very well. Our plans, then?"

"WE shall send the messages we have to send to keep the cordon intact and reorganize it in Gerenze's absence, but then, after that, we shall maintain radio silence. After all, aren't we supposed to be baiting a trap for the Terrans? A trap baited with honey…or a trap baited with poison? I prefer honey, first. Let me record a message, and let it be sent the next day. Set up a feast for the Star Force's officers. We have to give the appearance of a true parley, my friend."

"Yessir."

"Carry out your orders, then. You know what they are."

"Yessir. The Plan shall proceed. They will NOT get through to Pellias."

"No," whispered Cha'rif. "They won't! You know why? I'm NOT going to permit it!" And, at that, he began to laugh like a maniac.

The laughter chilled Ter'garv's heart. He knew that Cha'rif was NOT to be trifled with when he laughed like that, and he hoped that the Terrans would come to realize the same thing, and be wise, and know when to stay out of their business.

After all, he knew that Rikashans were nothing to be trifled with...especially not when they had an Agenda from Heaven.

* * *

II. SHE WHO AWAITS HIS RETURN.

The Balcony of the Sherikhan Fortress

Sherikhan Fortress: Sherikhan

Planet Rikasha

12 Sha'netz: Warbringer's Year 3218

January 10, 2202

1342 Hours, space-time

* * *

The hot Rikashan sun rode high in the sky as the young woman leaned on the balcony, letting the hot wind from out of the desert blow through her dark blonde hair and over her face. Her feature were very fair for a Rikashan; one could barely see the orange tint in them. Even though her long white dress was suitably light, the woman was starting to feel a bit warm in it. She was considering the idea of exchanging it for a shorter tunic after her afternoon bath, and for replacing her tan suede boots with sandals at the same time. She had dressed this way because her private vigil had begun this morning, when the winds from the southern desert and the western mountains of Irendorga Province had been cold and biting. 

The woman took a deep breath as she looked out at the sky. Someone she loved very much was out there, fighting yet another enemy, and she hoped he would return safely. The young woman was named Mikala, and she was none other than the wife of Baron Anton Cha'rif, the Baroness of the Duchy. Right now, with the men away, with Anton in space and her father-in-law in the capital for a meeting, she was the effective ruler of the Fortress, the City, and the entire Duchy. She had many of her father-in-law's advisors present, but any important decisions would fall on her shoulders until one of the men returned.

She missed her husband very much, and she bit her lip as she wondered why he had to be off yet again on more of his mysterious business, and all because that Priestess Marda ordered him and the other men of the Council around like pack animals! Mikala didn't trust Marda, and she hated the dark worship of the Warbringer. So far, she had expressed these thoughts only to Anton and to their son, A'rten.

As usual, Anton took her comments in silence, while A'rten listened and asked a lot of questions, and had to be shushed by his father. The was especially so since both of them knew that eight-year old boys weren't exactly known for their discretion, and there were far too many ears in the Fortress.

"Anton," said Mikala as she gazed up at the sky. "I hope you're well out there, and I pray that what you're doing will go well for us, both for our House and for Rikasha. Oh, dear Protector," she said in a whisper as she prayed to a major native Goddess of Rikasha. "Please watch over Anton and his men, and pray that they can return safely. Grant them a clean and honorable victory over their enemy, whoever he is; and please, I pray, guide Anton's heart into showing even his enemies mercy and justice; may Anton be led to treat even his pitiable prisoners with kindness and honor. My dear one has a good heart, even if the brutality of these wars makes even him forget it at times. Protect and bless him, his men, and this House, and bring him back to me so we can enjoy our reunion night after the nurses...put A'rten to bed. In your name, let it be."

Mikala gazed at the sky a moment longer before her attention was broken by a set of running footsteps towards the rear of the balcony. It was A'rten.

The boy had chestnut-colored hair that blew back in a long mane not unlike his mother's, even though his hair was only to his back. He had the darker skin of his father, though, and his sunburned legs were particularly prominent in the tunic he wore, just above his boots.

"_Mati?_" he asked, using the Rikashan diminutive for "mother." "What's on your mind?"

"Your _Tata_," she said.

"You're always thinking about _Ta!_" he said.

"And why should I not? I _am_ his Baroness," she said proudly.

"Sorry, _mati_," he said. "Where is he now?"

"He's near a planet on the Eastern Fringes, guarding people important to the Empire. I'm told that a ship of honorable men and women..."

"_Women?_" said A'rten.

"Yes, women. On this world, they fight alongside their men and are not just clergy or harlots. Sometimes I wish that was the Way here, but perhaps it is better that it isn't because then I can look after you when I'm not busy," she said as she affectionately hugged her son. "Anyway, I'm told...not quite by your father...but reading between the lines of his speech, that these honorable warriors were sent to capture something from this little world, something we need as an artifact for the wars."

"We always need things for the wars!" he said. "Why don't we just fight them and get it over with so maybe we can all be at peace sometime before I grow up?" said A'rten.

"Hush. Don't let them hear you! At any rate, these warriors are brave but deluded. In the battle, though, your father's forces captured captives. They're to be brought here, and some of them are just as old as you are. Your father says maybe they can be clan-mates of ours."

"You mean I'll get to play with former prisoners from a far-away planet?" said A'rten. "Are they green? Do they have huge heads? Do they blow _smoke_ out of their ears?" he said, making a terrible face.

"_No,_ silly," giggled Mikala as she sat on a chair and pulled her son onto her lap. "They're sort of like us, except that their skin is a little lighter than ours; even than mine. If we have some of them here, you'll perhaps get to have a midday bath with one of them in the bathing pond and then really get to see what they look like close-up. All right?"

"All right."

"You don't believe what they say about their being inferior, just like you don't believe anything about our clan-slaves or commoners being inferior; especially since, someday, you might be placed over them as governor when your father moves on to other things. Okay?"

"Okay. When do I get to run in the bathing pond? It's hot!" he cried as he stood in the breeze for a minute.

"Soon! And you'd better wash everywhere."

"Okay. Uhmm...speaking of that, if we're conquering so many planets, why don't we have more water here on Rikasha yet for the poor? You know...so everyone can take baths?" asked A'rten.

Mikala shook her head. "Your grandfather knows the answer to that, and he's working to change things, as is, I hope, your father."

"When I get to be a great lord, can I do what I can so everyone gets water, enough to eat, and so everyone can have clothes to wear when they want them, and so that maybe, they let the slaves go free?" he said.

"A'rten, I hope you do," she said as she hugged him again. "Now, let's get you in that bath! Move it before a water thief gets up here and steals the water! _Chop, chop!_" she said, pushing at his tush hard enough to make him giggle. "Let's go!"

As A'rten ran inside, Mikala looked up into the sky again for a moment, shading her very dark green on light green eyes with her hand as she looked out for a vessel making a landing pattern, maybe bringing back news from the battlefront.

Since there was none, she took a deep breath and just thought of Anton.

* * *

III. KERI

Triton Base Hospital

January 10, 2202

1402 hours-space-time

* * *

Not that far away, Doctor Sane and Nova were checking out a group of civilians at the Triton Base Hospital. One of them happened to be Keri McCullough, who was currently in a nightdress in a bed, and was just regaining consciousness. "Where...am I?" she asked. 

"You're aboard the space battleship _Argo_," said Doctor Sane. "Just rest: you've had a busy day."

"The Star Force," she whispered. "Good thing you were out here. What's going on?"

"We were attacked by a raiding party of some type," said Nova, whose tongue wasn't numb any longer. Her voice now sounded normal again. "We don't know who they were, but..."

"Why does my arm hurt?" whispered Keri.

"Your wounds, and the transfusion we had to give you," said Sane. "You lost a great deal of blood, young lady, as did many of the others we rescued."

"Where are we now?"

"Triton, the major moon of Neptune," said Nova. "The doctor says that as soon as you're well enough to move, you can get up, get dressed, and get something to eat in the messhall before you start on your way home."

"My way home?"

"Of course," said Doctor Sane. "This is a warship, young lady. Did you think Captain Wildstar would let you remain here in danger while we head off on our mission to map the galactic system?"

"Love to stay," she muttered. "Now that I sent a story back to Earth...love to keep on reporting news, crazy as it is. Must be...tons of stories on this ship."

"I don't think so," said Nova. "For now, rest and concentrate on going home with the others...all right?"

I'd _love to, _thought Keri. _Except something is telling_ _me that staying home running afternoon talk shows is sure going to be mighty stale after this..._

* * *

Later that day, Sandor came up to Wildstar and said, "Captain, the repairs to the ship are completed." 

"Good," said Derek. "Dash, did Conroy and Hardy receive the replacement planes and pilots they wanted?"

"Yes, all but two. We're leaving here with forty-six Cosmo Tigers."

"See if they can piece together two more planes from the surplus parts when we're underway and maybe stick a boat pilot or two in the squadrons to fill them out."

"Yessir. We'll do that as soon as we can and I'll report to you, probably tonight."

"Venture, we're ready to cast off?" asked Wildstar.

"We will be in about thirty minutes," he said. "All hands are back on board."

"Venture, give the order to prepare for takeoff."

"Yessir," said Mark. "Attention, all hands. Prepare for liftoff! After we clear the Neptune area, we will be warping to the edge of the solar system to scan the area for enemy forces. The warp will be at 1730. Our liftoff time is 1700. That will be all."

A while later, once again, the _Argo_ lifted off and finally left Triton behind.

------------------------------

The Argo warped in near Brumus at 1900 hours, and arrived in the early evening before dinner.

"Warp completed," said Venture.

"Wave motion engine is normal," said Orion.

"We're one thousand megameters from Brumus," said Nova from her post. She wiped a spot of dirt off her gold uniform. "Sandor, are you sure the ship's all right?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I opened my eyes for a moment during warp and my uniform looked green and my skin looked purple. That's a new hallucination."

"I saw pink elephants a minute ago," said Rosstowski.

"Rosstowski, was that the warp or a leftover from lunch at the base?" chided Homer.

"Enough, guys," said Captain Wildstar. "We're supposed to be here to check out some signals that Brumus reported receiving a few hours ago. The Black Tigers will be flying patrols until we're ready to warp out of the solar system at 0500 Hours tomorrow morning. My guess is that if we don't pick up any signals by 0500, we can warp at 0530."

"Where are we going, then, sir?" asked Holly Parsons.

Sandor stood up and activated a graphic on an auxiliary screen near Holly's station. He got out a pointer and walked over to the screen. Derek said, "Everyone gather around. Quick briefing, and this is important."

"Thanks," said Sandor as the bridge crew gathered around the screen. "This mark on the star charts is the Sigma Korolevi System. It was mapped many years ago by the Korolevs during the earlier part of the war with Gamilon. It's an exceptional system because the usual static of background x-ray radiation is weaker there than in many areas, and it's on our course towards the system we're investigating. My guess is that if we need to stop anywhere nearby on our course to pick up signals from the woman who sent those messages, we can pick them up well there. It's a semi-null space like the Jessline System that we stopped in on our way to Telezart last year."

"If the Gamilons call up with any further information, we can easily pick them up there, right?" asked Venture.

"When did _you_ become a communications expert, Venture?" snapped Homer.

"I thought we ended this argument months ago, Homer," countered Venture. "We need this for navigation, too."

Homer went silent with a scowl while Sandor said, "Yes, that's right, Venture. Royster and I detected a lot of drift in the planet's orbit in the Beta Valentis System, probably because it doesn't belong there in the first place. It's got such an eccentric orbit that we might have a hard time tracking it."

"Like Mercury with its retrograde orbit?" asked Nova.

"That's right," said Sandor.

"I'm going to change the morning watch schedule around a little tonight," said Captain Wildstar. "Sandor, you're going to be the Officer of the Deck tomorrow morning in place of Orion; you'll be relieving Lieutenant Wildstar at 0400 as usual."

"Yessir," said Sandor. "I can handle that."

* * *

IV. INVITATION TO A PARLEY

January 11, 2202

Space Battleship _Argo_

Cometary Halo of Earth's solar system beyond Brumus

0452 Hours Space-time

* * *

As arranged, Stephen Sandor was the Officer of the Deck. He had the usual morning watch shift bridge crew, which consisted of himself at Mechanical, Staff Sergeant Tranh at the Tactical Radar, Ensign Broderson on Combat, Lieutenant Diane Henson at Engineering, Junior Lieutenant Parsons at Navigation, Sergeant Yarborough at Communications. Staff Sergeant Scranton at Artillery, and Ensign Chafer at the cosmo-radar. 

"Sergeant, picking up any radio traces?" asked Sandor.

"Nothing. It seems to be as quiet as the grave out here, sir."

"Sandor, everything's ready for our warp," said Parsons.

"If the comm bands remain quiet, sound the warp alert at 0515."

"Yessir," replied Holly.

"No radar activity of any kind," said Chafer. "We're now past the edge of the Cometary halo, sir," he said to Sandor. "We are now officially outside the solar system."

"Log the Line-crossing at 0453," said Sandor. "Too bad we have no time for a Line-crossing ceremony, what with our mission and all."

"You like that sort of thing, sir?" asked Henson from engineering.

"Not particularly," smiled Sandor. "But a lot of the younger crew members would've liked it. Nice chance for them to blow off steam."

"It's not fun if you're a 'wog' awaiting initiation into the Shellback mysteries, sir," said Henson.

"You mean you were never initiated?" asked Parsons.

"No," snapped Henson.

"_You'll be sorry_…" sang Parsons.

"Point made," said Sandor.

"Wasn't there scuttlebutt the ceremony might be done later on?" asked Chafer.

"The Captain was thinking about doing it a little later on," said Sandor. "Of course, I don't know if that's going to happen or not."

"Sandor, a communication is coming in from the Sigma Korolevi System," said Yarborough. "Audio only."

"Put it up on the speakers," replied Sandor. _Who could be calling from that area? The Gamilons?_ thought Sandor.

"You mistake us," said a deep, slightly arrogant voice over the speakers. Sandor thought it sounded a bit like General Lysis with a Middle Eastern accent. "You especially mistake me."

How does he know what I'm thinking? mused Sandor before he replied. "Who are you?"

"I am Baron Anton Cha'rif," replied the deep voice. "Unfortunately, circumstances have brought us together. I am the commander over what you would consider to be the enemy fleet that recently attacked shipping in your star system. These attacks were made without my permission, and without the explicit permission of our military high command. I am punishing those responsible, and I would like to speak with your Captain in order to make amends. Can he be roused?"

"How do you know he's not on watch now?" asked Sandor.

"I know many things," replied Cha'rif enigmatically. "Please have him speak to me within thirty of your minutes. I will speak further then."

"Sir, the transmission just cut off," said Yarborough.

"I'm calling an alert," said Sandor. At that, the klaxons came on. "Keep on watch, everyone," he ordered. "They could begin an attack at any moment."

Half an hour later, Captain Wildstar and the other regular members of the bridge crew were at their posts. Captain Wildstar was near Homer's station, looking over the readouts of the signal with Homer, Yarborough, and Sandor.

"Even at audio, that seems like pretty high gain," said Wildstar.

"My guess is that he has a very large and powerful ship; probably about the size of the _Argo_ or of Desslok's command cruiser," said Sandor.

"And he seems to know our frequencies, sir," said Yarborough.

"That's strange, especially since we've just had first contact with this race," replied Derek.

"They seem to be very thorough," said Sandor. "And there was something else strange about him."

"What is it, Sandor?" asked Derek.

"I'll let you know later. It's just a guess of mine," said Sandor.

"The signal's coming in again," said Homer. "Audio and video, this time!"

"Put it up on the main video panel," said Wildstar.

Derek walked over to his station and sat down as the image came up.

Everyone on the bridge gasped a little at Cha'rif's strong, arrogant appearance, and his orange skin.

"You are Captain Derek Wildstar?" asked Cha'rif.

Derek nodded.

"I am Baron Anton Cha'rif, commanding officer of all Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Union forces in this area. I would like to begin by telling you that the attack upon your private ships and warships within the past few days was a mistake, caused by overzealous commanders in my ranks who have been punished. Indeed, I saw to it that the ringleader was executed, Wildstar."

"Your attacks have cost Earth a great deal," said Derek. "Thanks to you, many children are orphans, and thanks to you, quite a few women are weeping alone because their husbands and fathers are dead. You have a great deal to answer for."

"I am here, speaking to you, since I intend to do so."

"Three people from the passenger vessel are still unaccounted for, Baron Cha'rif. One child and a young couple on their honeymoon. Have you any idea of their whereabouts?"

"Yes. I do," said Cha'rif. "They're with my forces, and they're safe. I understand you have a R'Khell prisoner?"

"Yes, but he's dead. He appears to have killed himself," said Wildstar. "We're not sure how he did it…he was…"

"No need to explain," said Cha'rif with his eyes closed and a hand upraised. "I am already aware of his suicide, and I know how he did it. You see, certain of our peoples share a mental link with each other, among other powers. I saw his suicide as it happened. A brave, but misguided man. I would like to propose an exchange and a meeting. I will return our captives safely to you, and you will return Duro's body, if it should be available, so he can be remembered in the fashion of our people. I am currently in what you call the Sigma Korolevi system, near the fourth and outermost planet. May we meet under a flag of truce at 1300 Hours in your time aboard my flagship, the _B'eoneraze_? I will prepare a banquet for your crew so that you can be convinced of my intentions, which are peaceful. "

"We can meet," said Captain Wildstar. "However, other than the return of our captives, I am not sure what I can discuss. I don't have full authority from my Government to negotiate with you, sir."

"Perhaps you can obtain it?" asked Cha'rif. "At any rate, I trust our meeting will be profitable for you. I can explain in further detail why these attacks happened and propose what I can do to make certain there is peace between our peoples in the future. For, believe me or not, I bear you no personal hatred, and I admire your fighting skill, Captain. It is seldom one so young gains a major command like yours among my people, Captain. Surely you must be a great hero of your people."

Wildstar only nodded. "We will meet in the Sigma Korolevi System…at 1300. Please make certain our people are safe and ready to be returned."

"I shall," said Cha'rif. "I can warrant that they are being treated well."

At that, the message ended.

"Homer, put me through to the Commander," said Captain Wildstar. "Before we meet with Cha'rif, I want it to be made clear how much we can discuss. I'm afraid I'm not a diplomat."

"Roger," said Homer.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT FIVE--"WILDSTAR'S RESPONSE"


	5. Chapter 5

**ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE**

**STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF**

**Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz**

**ACT FIVE--WILDSTAR'S REPLY**

* * *

**I. A DECISION FROM THE COMMANDER**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**In the Sigma Korolevi System**

**January 11, 2202**

**0732 Hours space-time**

* * *

"Captain!" cried Homer. "It's a call from the Commander!" 

"Put it through, Homer," said Wildstar.

"Yessir."

Captain Wildstar saluted as Commander Singleton came up on the main screen. Beside him, Venture and Homer also saluted.

Singleton returned their salutes and then said, "I'm glad to hear that you're in the Sigma Korolevi system, Wildstar. I understand our new enemy has a message for us?"

"Yessir, they do," said Captain Wildstar. "A while ago, the enemy commander, a Baron Anton Cha'rif called up and apologized for the attack. He said that elements of his forces beyond his control caused the attack, and he would like to apologize and return three prisoners to us."

"You have no live prisoners to return to him, correct?"

"Correct, sir," continued Wildstar. "As you know, the only prisoner we had committed suicide, apparently through the use of some mental powers. Cha'rif said that many people in their race have such powers, including himself."

"Hmmm," said Singleton. "Then the death of a prisoner in our custody didn't seem to bother him?"

"No, sir. He was just as much as admitting that they have a harsh ethic and such mental powers."

"Did he say anything about the disturbance in space or any connection to Gralnacz?" asked the Commander.

"No, sir. The silences he left seem almost as disturbing as what he did say. He did say that he wishes to negotiate the return of the prisoners under a flag of truce."

"Who are these prisoners?"

"He said a young couple and a child, sir. He also asked for the return of the prisoner's body."

"As long as you're under a truce, you can give him the body. However, should he attack you, you have permission to break this truce to defend yourselves and Earth, no questions asked."

"Yessir," said Derek. "What about further negotiations? He said he wanted to negotiate peace, sir."

"If he has that power, than you can, of course, listen to his offers. However, nothing is to interfere with your mission to investigate the disturbance in the Valentis System. If his "peace" depends upon your stopping your mission or turning back, do not accept it. We need to know the nature of this threat. The remnants of the time-space disturbance passed Earth near Newfoundland not long after you warped back in. Four small villages were devastated near the coast. We are now officially considering this disturbance a threat to Earth, and the reason you are out there is to investigate this threat. Just as with the Comet Empire, nothing is to stop you from reaching your goal. Is that clear?"

"Yessir," said Wildstar with a grim smile.

"Also, if any of his offers involve threats to our security or setting up of any bases within our territorial space, do not consider them. You are to handle this with caution. However, on the other hand, try to avoid any action that would endanger our prisoners, except if he threatens you or them."

Wildstar nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"You can meet with him, but keep the negotiations as short as possible. I will be diverting the patrol cruiser _Danube_ out beyond the solar system to pick up the prisoners and bring them home. I know that Captain Josiah told you it would take several weeks to repair her, but she was just completed last night. The rendezvous will be twelve hours from now, after the _Danube_ completes the latter part of her speed trials, and before she's assigned to a regular station within the Fleet. After that, continue on your mission to investigate the Beta Valentis System, and be prepared to fight if this enemy commander tries to stop you."

"Of course. You can count on the Star Force, sir."

"Excellent. Report to me later with regard to what you discover about our enemy during this truce. And be careful during this banquet. Bring your analysis robot, IQ-9, with you to investigate your food. Be wary. Poisoning an enemy commander is an old trick, Captain. I think they might be capable of treachery of this sort."

"Of course, sir. And thank you for the warning."

"You're welcome. Report back soon, Captain."

At that, the transmission faded out.

"What do you think of that?" asked Venture.

"I think we might be going into a trap," said Derek. "We'd better keep our eyes open. That goes for all of you," he said, scanning the bridge crew with his eyes.

"Yessir," they all said.

"All of you will come with me except for Rosstowski and Orion," said Captain Wildstar. "We have a bit more than two hundred aboard this ship. I will be taking fifty aboard for the banquet. All of you; be sure not to let down your guard…that even goes for you ladies attending in civilian clothing," smiled Wildstar.

"I still have that large bag from the 20th Century," said Nova. "My astro-automatic is going in there. I'll make certain that anyone else attending in civilian dress takes the same sort of precautions."

"Believe me, I'll be doing that," said Parsons.

Captain Wildstar smiled and nodded.

"Captain," said Homer. "I'm receiving a signal from the _B'eoneraze_, Cha'rif's ship. His fleet is requesting permission to approach."

"Grant it, but request that the _B'eoneraze_ come no closer than five kilometers until we signal that we're ready to receive their docking tunnel and make the rendezvous."

"Yessir," said Homer. He spoke to the Rikashans for a moment, and then turned back to face the Captain. "Sir, they've accepted those conditions and will abide by them."

"Pretty polite for a race that just attacked us a few hours ago," said Dash. "What a strange bunch."

"Derek, maybe this commander is telling the truth," said Nova. "Maybe the attack was a mistake."

"Maybe, but that still doesn't take away the fact that it happened, Nova," said Derek.

"Maybe they'll even give us information about the spatial disturbance," said Parsons.

"Maybe," said Wildstar. "This may seem funny, but right now, I'd rather have the Gamilons around. At least we know we can trust Desslok…to an extent."

"I wonder what Desslok knows about this bunch," asked Orion.

"I'd sure love to ask him," said Captain Wildstar.

"There's a lot here we'd like to know about," said Sandor.

"You can say that again, Sandor," said Derek. "Nova, keep an eye on that fleet. If one ship makes a move, I want to know about it, and ASAP."

"Yessir," she replied.

* * *

**II. JONATHAN AWAKENS IN HELL.**

**The Brig Deck of the _B'eoneraze_**

**The Sigma Korolevi System**

**January 11, 2202**

**1040 Hours, space-time**

* * *

The young figure on the bunk under the thin cover moaned and grimaced in pain against his wrist and ankle shackles as the last bits of a horrid dream clawed at his mind. At some moment, the boy seemed to realize he was awake, even though his vision was blurred. 

The first thing that he felt was a very large but gentle hand against his forehead. His eyes fluttered as he felt something cool being rubbed against his forehead. He heard a deep voice whisper, "My Lord Baron, he's coming around."

"Excellent," said an even deeper but more cultured voice. "Those bumbling idiots in the Fleet. Didn't they know that using stun-weapons on these little ones could easily kill them? He's been out for several hours."

Jonathan Hartnell-Iiyama gasped a bit at that, and as his eyes opened, he let out something of a weak, croaking scream.He thought. _You creeps! YOU STINKING R'KHELLS…RIKASHANS, WHATEVER YOU MONSTERS ARE! WHY? WHY DID YOU KILL MY PARENTS?_

Jonathan Hartnell-Iiyama struggled against his bonds, screaming and croaking, "_Why, Why?_" in the first words he had spoken in many hours, since he had been knocked unconscious aboard the burning _Westhampton Beach_ by that monster Kranel with his stun-pistol.

_It would be better for you not to speak now_… came a deep voice in his mind as the big tall Rikashan in the black tunic and purple cloak stared what seemed to be daggers at him with his green eyes.

_What? _thought Jonathan.

_Do not be alarmed, _replied the tall one_Some of us can do this. It is even normal for many of us. Incidentally, the doctor; that is, Doctor Garn'ash, the man over there in the white tunic, cannot hear us, even though he can probably guess I am speaking thus to you. I have read your thoughts, and I understand your sentiments about us. It is doubly worse, for I would have never authorized your capture had I known that Kranel and his ilk would do such things. I have never seen women and children as legitimate prisoners of war. Only fighting men should thus be taken._

"You mean?" gasped Jonathan, whose-tear filled brown eyes were now filled with wonder as well as fear as his wrist shackles snapped open with a gesture from Cha'rif. He sat up and shivered at once in the grey compartment as his blanket slid off. He then realized they had taken _everything_ from him and had stuck him in a scanty, filthy loincloth instead. He curled up his bare legs in a pathetic effort to keep warm.

Then, the reality of his situation hit him afresh. His parents were dead, killed by these people. His sister was missing, or dead like his parents. And he was a long, long way from home, alone and almost naked in an alien ship among Earth's enemies in a prison cell.

"Why did you take my pajamas?" asked Jonathan in a dry voice.

"You had to be examined and studied, young man, and it is the custom of our people to strip prisoners and slaves," said Gar'nash.

"I'm no slave," gasped Jonathan. "Please get me some water?"

"Garn'ash!" barked the Baron. "Inform the young _Terranisch_ known as Jonathan that I, Sublime Baron Anton Cha'rif, have ordered you to get him a cold glass of water so his throat will not hurt him because of the bumbling of the fool soldiers of the twenty-ninth Corps! Then, after you bring him the water, you will leave us!"

"Yes, Lord," said Gar'nash as he bowed and left.

"Good," sobbed Jonathan. "Because there's something I have to do to him...this big one in the black and purple outfit!"

"Yes?" asked Cha'rif.

With all of his strength, Jonathan sat up, drew a bit of spit together in his mouth...and spat right on Baron Cha'rif.

The Baron gasped a little, drawing back with a scowl on his face as Jonathan thought, _Go ahead, you great Sublime Creepazoid! KILL ME!_

_Are all of you this defiant to your elders and betters? __thought__ Cha'rif in return_. To Jonathan's surprise, the voice was hearable in his mind._If so, your race might be a harder enemy to defeat than we thought should we have to go to war._

_If you let me out of these bonds around my ankles, you'll see just how tough I am, you big jerk! And why don't you get me some clothes? I can't run around in a rag! _retorted Jonathan with his mind.

Cha'rif cleared his throat. "The doctor told you why you were stripped, child! But back to the current matter at hand. Since your state bothers you, we shall provide you with clothing when you're well, which, incidentally, we usually never do for prisoners of war. I told the young Terran couple the same thing when we dressed them."

"The other couple? You mean there's other prisoners from Earth on this ship?"

"There are. And another reason you will be clothed is that you and they will soon be on their way back home."

"Home?" asked Jonathan. "Not a lie?"

"Not a lie. You will be on your way home."

Doctor Gar'nash returned a moment later with water for Jonathan. "Your water, lad. Here, let me loosen one bond a bit to permit you to drink."

"Thanks," sobbed Jonathan as he pulled his sheet up to cover his body a bit. "By the way, Mister Baron Cha'rif, if I'm not a prisoner, why do you have me tied to the bed?"

"You were thrashing about in your sleep," said Gar'nash. "If you had fallen out of the bunk, the Baron would have held me responsible for your welfare. Had I failed, my head might've been on a post with Kranel's."

"Kranel. He's the one who hurt me?"

"He was," said Cha'rif. "He was brought to me and decapitated for his cruelty. He is dead."

"You really...cut…people's heads off," muttered Jonathan. "I'm sorry...but you guys sound nuts."

Cha'rif let out a war-whoop and unsheathed a huge, silver scimitar that looked nothing less like something that the mad Arab Azul Al-Hadred might've carried.

At that, under his loincloth, Jonathan wet the bunk.

"Sorry to frighten you," said Cha'rif as Jonathan cowered. "I..."

"It's okay. I…oh, great," said Jonathan. "Mom used to make me wash the sheets when I did that."

"By the gods, I went too far and shamed you like a woman," said, looking at the growing wetness on Jonathan's sheet. "For that, I sincerely apologize. "Gar'nash. After we finish, wash him, change his sheets, and see to it he gets _something_ on him, even if only a fresh, clean loincloth! Also see to it that he gets sandals on his feet! When we let him wander about the ship, he'll need something between his toes and the deck gratings so he doesn't catch and break a toe!"

"Of course. He'll be tended to after you leave."

"If you untie me and get me some water, I can darn well wash myself down there, thank you!" said Jonathan.

"All right," said Cha'rif with the first hint of a smile that Jonathan had seen in any of these aliens. "To change the subject for a moment, would you like to look at my sword? I call it _D'Kransha_, which means "the grand silver cleaver of enemies" in my tongue. Isn't it a beautiful piece of work?"

"You use that to cut off people's _heads?_" said Jonathan.

"Yes. And I extend to you the offer to see the head of your enemy. I'll bring it to you."

"No," said Jonathan, not believing this for a second. "Well, if you actually have the guy's head, that'd be cool, but kind of gross."

"Very well. Just permit me to do it before the banquet. I don't wish to get violently ill at the sight of the congealed blood before we dine with the Star Force."

"You really have his head?"

"On a stake," said Cha'rif.

"Forget that. But, you said the Star Force is here?"

Cha'rif pressed a button, and a small viewport opened up. "See the _Argo_? She is maneuvering close to our fleet now."

"Cool!" cried Jonathan. "Then I'm really going home?"

A buzzer went off. "Cha'rif," he said into a small grille in a wall.

Some speech in Rikashan went back and forth. Finally, Cha'rif said. "You will have to be taken aboard another ship for a time. Our doctor is coming with sandals and a fresh loincloth for you, as well as water. You will be fitted for a tunic on one of our battlecruisers, where the Captain has a souvenir of his child around. I shall see you later."

"Okay, fine," smiled Jonathan. Cha'rif left.

Then, it hit Jonathan again. _These_ people, men of _this_ sort, nice as some of them seemed, had just left him an orphan. When the reality of his situation hit him again, Jonathan banged his wet mattress (there was no pillow on his bunk) and began to cry again, not caring what anyone would think when they found him.

_What's going to happen to me_? thought Jonathan_. I have no family now! No mom, no dad, nobody at all. For all I know, my sister's dead. And…it was the 11th today. It's my birthday! I'm nine today. No cake, no candles, no family…nothing…and the Rikashans probably beat kids with a whip on their birthdays... _

Jonathan lay back and began to sing, "Happy Birthday…to me…Happy birthday… to…"

And, at that, he began to scream and cry uncontrollably. He eventually cried himself to sleep.

* * *

"Samantha," gasped a young man as he lay in bed in a similar cell. 

"Poor Josh," replied his brown-haired young wife as she stroked his forehead. "At least they gave us clothes to wear now, if you're cold. See? I have on an orange jumpsuit and boots."

"Not cold. Hot. What did they hit me with?"

"A stun-beam of some kind. "

"Were you conscious, Samantha?"

"I…don't want to talk about it. All they did was hit me and asked me questions," she sobbed."They made all kinds of threats, too. Horrible threats. Then, I felt a needle in me and I woke up here with you, with my dress gone."

"They took everything from you?"

Samantha nodded.

"Those maniacs. I think they must be pirates or something," said Joshua. "Where are we?"

"Their flagship, I think? It makes a lot of noise," she said, listening to the low thrum of _B'eoneraze's_ twin main engines.

The doors hissed open, and Joshua Cortland sat up, instinctively trying to protect his wife, Samantha. They had just gotten married a few days ago and had decided to have their honeymoon on the _Westhampton__ Beach_. However, the trip had turned out to be a disaster.

In came Cha'rif and Gar'nash. "Is he all right?" asked Gar'nash.

"What do you people care?" hissed Samantha. "Are you here to torture us again?"

"No. We're here to begin processing you for your return to Earth," said Cha'rif.

"Is this a trick?" whispered Joshua.

"No, it is not," said Cha'rif. "The _Argo_ has arrived. In about two of your hours, a party from that ship will board. You will be returned to the _Argo_, examined, and then you will be met by an Earth patrol cruiser. Aboard that ship, you will go home. Before then, you will be fed. May we examine your husband? We need to be sure he's well," said Cha'rif.

"Why did you take us in the first place?" asked Joshua.

"Many reasons. Forces not fully under my control in this Fleet have worked against me. The raid was executed without my permission, and I mean to make up for it."

* * *

Jonathan slept for a while, and then he was awakened to be washed and fed. They had also left new clothes. It took a while for the boy to figure out how to put them on, but the exotic outfit cheered him up a little once he saw how he looked in it. 

"I feel kinda like Tarzan in this get-up," he said. He now wore a suede breechclout held onto his bare waist with a rawhide thong, and sandals with flexible leather soles that looked a bit like ventilated boots tied on with long thongs.

"_Tar-zan_?" asked a Rikashan orderly on another part of the _B'eoneraze_ as Jonathan was walked towards the banquet hall.

"A great hero of Earth. He lived in the jungle and stuff…back when Earth had jungles, that is. I had to read about him in school. Is this where I'll be meeting with the Star Force? This room looks neat!"

"Yes. It is. Sit here with us," said the orderly and one guard as they smiled to each other. "Because of what you went through, today Baron Cha'rif has decided you will be recognized as a man before you meet with the Star Force. Drink from that cup. It's like a Terran drink you call wine. Only grown-ups drink it on Rikasha."

"Okay, if you guys insist," smiled Jonathan as he picked up the metal stein and clinked steins with the other men. He drank. _Boy, is this good_, he thought. _Feel funny…is this what they call drunk? Why am I getting…?_

Jonathan passed out with his head on the table a moment later.

"Little creep, he spilled it!" roared the orderly.

"We have to make this quick and quiet if we're gonna get him to Ka'mok and the others on the sub for that bounty without Cha'rif noticing it," said the guard. "We'll get a lot for one young slave in good physical shape. See his chest? He's got good muscles for a lad."

"What will they do with him?" asked the orderly.

"Maybe sell him to a landowner, a farmer, a miner…maybe he'll even be sold into a house of ill repute. What do we care? Whatever will get us more money is the best thing. We'll tell his Lordship that he was spirited out from under our noses on the battlecruiser…which is not where he's going."

Both men laughed as they picked Jonathan up by the ankles and wrists like a sack and carried him out of the banquet hall. "Quick now. We don't want him waking up until he's in chains and on his way back to the Empire," said the orderly.

The guard just smiled.

* * *

**III. CHA'RIF'S BANQUET**

**The Banquet Hall of the _B'eoneraze_**

**The Sigma Korolevi System**

**January 11, 2202**

**1311 Hours, space-time**

* * *

Captain Derek Wildstar and Lieutenant Nova Wildstar walked through passage after passage. 

They were now on the _B'eoneraze_, which was attached to the _Argo_ temporarily by an umbilical-cord like tunnel that the Rikashans had set up and attached to the outside of an airlock hatch on the _Argo_. The seal had been perfect; Captain Wildstar had just come over in his peacoat, ascot and slacks and Nova was wearing a pink dress of hers, with a dark pink choker and the pink sandals from the 20th century that she had just gotten back from Holly Parsons.

"It's warm in here," said Nova. "I think they must like a hotter climate than ours."

Derek nodded. "Their ship certainly seems a bit bigger than the _Argo_."

"Probably at least three hundred and twenty meters long, if not bigger," said Sandor, who was behind them in his peacoat. "She seems to have heavier armor than ours and seems to have four main gun turrets, like an _Andromeda_ class battleship. And did you see the pulse laser array near the bridge tower? And twin engines?"

"Perhaps this visit is for propaganda, a sort of 'don't mess with us' visit," said Captain Wildstar.

"If it is, they know how to act well," said Hemsford. "What a contrast from the way they were actin' on that liner. These guys also look a little more orange than the other troops," he added as two troopers bowed at their approach.

"The banquet hall is in here," they said, opening the ornate, apparently wooden doors by hand with another bow.

Captain Wildstar and Nova looked surprised as they walked into a vast room filled with many round tables with white tablecloths. The walls seemed to be a dark purple color and were decorated with strange tapestries, paintings, and a few torches burning in brass fixtures of some kind. The torches were for decoration, it seemed, as the rest of the room was illuminated with modern lighting of some type.

Derek, Nova, Mark, and Stephen Sandor were guided to a large table around which Homer, Randall Parmon, Doctor Sane, and two individuals in orange jumpsuits were seated.

Homer turned to the couple in jumpsuits and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Cortland, this is Captain Derek Wildstar, with Lieutenant Nova Wildstar beside him in the pink dress. Those two are Commander Mark Venture and Commander Stephen Sandor."

Derek shook hands with both of them. "You are?"

"Mister Joshua Cortland and Mrs. Samantha Cortland," said the young man. "We work for the Xeno-Cultural Bureau, under Piper Sandberg. Needless to say, we don't share Doctor Sandberg's opinion of you anymore, especially since my wife is the "damsel in distress" you've apparently succeeded in rescuing. What the hell did you do to get them to turn us over?"

"We beat a major force of theirs in a battle," said Derek.

"That explains it, partially. The alien commander also seems decent," said Samantha. "He's supposed to be turning the little boy over to us with you…as soon as they get him dressed and ready, I think."

"The little boy?" asked Nova.

"Yes. He's about eight years old, I think, maybe nine. He has sandy blond hair, slightly chubby legs, wide eyes…cute kid," said Samantha.

"He sounds like the boy we tried to rescue yesterday," said Nova, turning to Hemsford and her husband for a minute. "Derek, my prayers were answered!"

"Let's hope so, Nova," said Derek as he held her hands.

A horn rang out in the chamber. The doors swung open, and the guests came to their feet in a salute.

**_Artwork--"Banquet" Based upon series art from Yamato III-computer-altered by Frederick P. Kopetz_**

Captain Wildstar recognized Baron Cha'rif, accompanied by an older, bearded man in a grey tunic and black trousers, and two armored guards in black variations of the battle armor that Nova and the Marines had seen the R'Khell wearing during the raid.

Cha'rif strode to the center of the room and raised his right arm in a stiff salute. "I welcome you aboard _B'eoneraze_, Captain Derek Wildstar and members of the Star Force! I am Baron Anton Cha'rif, a priest and commander of the military forces of a major province of the Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Stellar Union! It is my hope that there shall be peace for long among our peoples!"

"By way of apology, I return to you Mister and Mrs. Joshua and Samantha Cortland, unwilling guests of ours, captured in the recent unfortunate battle that introduced our peoples to each other. At the end of this ceremony, I will also return young Master Jonathan Hartnell-Iiyama to you. He will be bearing the cup of friendship, as we will drink to a hopefully long and peaceful partnership between our races. Please pardon the delay. He is being suitably attired for such a ceremony. The poor lad was taken in his pajamas."

A few chuckles filled the room. "Before we eat, permit me to speak to you of our Empire. We currently occupy this area of space," said Cha'rif as he walked over to an area covered with curtains. A quickly glimpsed graphic of a man in robes faded and was replaced by a computer-rendered galactic map.

"As you will see, your Earth is here, in the lower part of the Orion Nebula, as you call it. This is the site of the departed planet Telezart, and here is the center of the galaxy. In this vast, unexplored space covering the top of the graphic, we occupy all of the space marked off in orange, down to this point, here," said Cha'rif as he pointed to a flashing dot. "We have just completed an exploration of this system, the Mendeleva System, here, at this point. It was uninhabited, taken peacefully by forces originating from this point, here, the planet Berth. At this point, we are, let us say, nine thousand lightyears away from your Earth, in space you never explored, as your previous journeys took you outward, here, to Telezart, and here, to the Great Magellenic Cloud."

"We are just beginning to explore your region of space," continued Cha'rif. "We do not know much of your history, but we know that your Earth has been fought over, and hard, by two great powers in the past one hundred and fifty years, namely, Gamilon and the Comet Empire. How is it that one planet has held off armadas from interstellar nations much larger than my own? Please tell me."

Derek looked at the map, aware that, if Cha'rif's claims were true, they already held half the Milky Way. _If they're an aggressive power, we might have to fight them…sooner rather than later. Unless that raid was really an aberration, like this man claims, they don't seem in the least damn bit peaceful, _thought Derek.

"Earth has a spirit and a determination to guide its own destiny that I am sure you have heard much of, Baron Cha'rif," began Derek. "We are a peaceful race, interested in minding our own business, except where we…or others… are threatened by evil powers."

"Are we, then, an 'evil power' in your eyes?" asked Cha'rif with a mocking smile.

"You may not be. However, the task force that attacked us yesterday was certainly evil, Baron. The same went for the squadron of space fortresses, accompanied by submarines, which began this attack. A major commander of yours, named Gralnacz, in leading a direct attack upon Earth that I cannot speak further of to you, certainly seemed to show a hint of your peoples' character. He killed several innocent people right in front of our eyes."

"Gralnacz?" asked Cha'rif. "Sir, I apologize, but we have no person by that name in our forces in a major command position."

"Then why was he leading large ships that looked like bigger versions of your own with the same kind of glossy black armor?" demanded Wildstar.

"Silence…please," said Cha'rif. He stood in silence for a moment. "Your thoughts ring true, Terran."

"My thoughts?" demanded Wildstar.

"Yes, I can read them," said Cha'rif. This man is, you feel, a man, like myself, but rebuilt as a machine? A mass murderer if given the chance?"

"That describes him," countered Wildstar. _If you are really reading my mind, that is_, he thought. "Who is he? What does he have to do with your people?"

"I will surprise you, no doubt, if I give you my honest answer," said Cha'rif as he came over towards Captain Wildstar and Nova.

"And that answer is?" snapped Wildstar.

"I…do not know," said Cha'rif in a manner that seemed utterly honest to Derek Wildstar. "I tell you the truth, Captain Wildstar, as one fighting man to another. **_I do not know_**."

And, at that, Cha'rif smiled to himself.

* * *

"Marda, where is Gralnacz?" asked Lord Ekogaru from his Audience Chamber. 

"My Lord, I do not know," said Marda as her image came up on the Dark Lord's great screen. "Why do you ask?"

"Cha'rif just mentioned him. I have not been able to raise Gralnacz for at least a day, now. What became of him? Did he defeat the Star Force?"

"No, Lord. They escaped him."

"_What_?" roared Ekogaru "HOW?"

"Some party, or parties, aided them…in a space beyond my ken, Lord. I have no idea how Gralnacz was defeated, or where he is, sir."

"And the _Argo_ is one hundred and fifty lightyears closer to Pellias, and your honorable boy Baron Cha'rif is dining with them and is asking questions about Gralnacz!"

"He is DINING with them? He is supposed to _kill _them!" roared Marda.

"Since you never troubled to give him formal orders to attack Earth or told him who he was to guard Pellias against, he thinks he has to make amends for the raids of your R'Khell priests. And wasn't a decision made on Rikasha to fight them?"

"It was. I hope I can use Cha'rif to lure them away from Pellias, which is ten thousand lightyears out past our supply lines and bases. If he can gain their confidence, Lord, the _Argo_ might turn back."

"Permit it. But if the _Argo_ continues on its mission…have it dealt with. And if I were you, Marda, after he talks with them, I'd pull Baron Cha'rif out of the sector and put in other forces we can trust. The boy talks, it is useful, but he and his father ask too many questions and think too much. If they suspect their nation is being manipulated, they may take power away from your friend Zaden, put down your priesthood, and start acting _honorably_," sneered Ekogaru. "Their one province is bad enough. What if their whole Empire turns into that?"

* * *

To his surprise, Captain Wildstar was actually having an interesting conversation with their enemy…one that was actually bringing forth some useful intelligence. 

"Gralnacz is not even a Rikashan or R'Khell name," said Cha'rif as he sat down at the table with Wildstar and the others. "And, as far as I know, we have no total cyborgs in our Empire. As a matter of religious fear and awe, we do not permit people to be rebuilt completely as cyborgs."

"This Gralnacz had strange powers, like your Duro…like…I would guess, you," said Wildstar. "Only his seemed much more powerful."

"I am among the most powerful psionics of my people," said Cha'rif. "Going much further than that seems like mortals aspiring to be like the gods. That is not allowed, especially with mechanical enhancement. You must forgive me," said Cha'rif as he picked at his meal. "I am taken aback by these revelations. Is your food acceptable?"

Derek, Nova, Mark, Steve, and the others nodded.

"Good. I am glad for that, at least." He sat in silence for a long time. "You are headed towards a natural phenomenon in this area?"

"Yes," said Sandor. "We're investigating a time-space disturbance in the region."

"I have orders from our command to investigate this disturbance," added Derek. "Do you know anything about it?"

"They only told me this," lied Cha'rif. "It is a danger to interstellar transport, best to be avoided." He smiled sadly and added, "I'm afraid I have the unenviable role of a constable placed near a disaster area, Captain Wildstar. My orders are to keep you or anyone else from getting near the disturbance, for your own good. It is just too dangerous. I have picket forces maybe a hundred lightyears in closer to the disaster. They say they have been in battle with forces of some race trying to break their blockade just a few hours ago. Do you know anything of this? Are these people a threat to you?"

_He's talking about the Gamilons, __thought Derek with a lurch of his stomach. __A few months ago, I would've said yes. Part of me still feels they could be a threat. But now…_

"Cha'rif, I'm afraid those people are our allies. They're the Gamilons I spoke of. We were at war, but now, we are at peace. Leader Desslok, their ruler, was kind enough to aid us against the Comet Empire after he had practically defeated us in combat. I bear the Gamilons no hatred now…since they were fighting only to find a new home since their planet was dying. Desslok also warned us about the threat to Earth caused by this interspacial disturbance. That's why I have orders to get in there. Desslok also thinks it is a threat to his people. Our intentions are not aggressive; we are on what you would call a humanitarian, scientific mission, Baron." Wildstar paused and then asked, "You respect us, don't you? You have no reason to fight us, especially since we just told you about someone who may be a threat to your own Empire."

"What would you propose I do? Lie? Break my oath to my people?" asked Cha'rif.

"Report to them that you couldn't spot us," said Derek, thinking of Admiral Gideon's false report to Earth Defense Command several months ago. "Then, let us slip in past your picket forces and come out again. I give you my word we will not attack you, nor do any harm to your people's interests. Let us slip into the disturbance and come out again if we can and go home in peace. After what has happened, that will be the best way you can prove to us that your people are really no threat, and that you _are_ a warrior who keeps his word."

"It would violate my orders from the R'Khell priesthood…which may be suspect," said Cha'rif. "They never acted like this before. Maybe someone is interfering with them?"

Cha'rif said nothing as he abruptly stood up. "I can withdraw my forces for two of your days without arousing suspicion," he snapped. "I'll only leave light forces, with orders to "miss" you. You get in, and you get out. Then report back to me after you report to your own Command and report to your ally, Desslok. I have a confession to make."

"Which is?" asked Wildstar.

"I was told only to guard this sector, a subspatial disturbance, and a rogue planet, all right? I have no idea what's on it myself, or why the priests even want it guarded. They don't usually keep secrets like that from me. I would love to know what I am guarding," said Cha'rif. "And…why they have hidden so much from me. Ter'garv!" he called out as his bearded adjutant came back in. "Where's the child? He should have been here by now!"

"Baron, you will not like this," said Ter'garv after he spoke to another officer for a moment.

"What? What is it?"

"He's not on this ship, or among the fleet. He's gone. Gone. Ka'mok said so."

"GONE?" raged Cha'rif. "Gone? _Treachery!_ Treachery among my own forces!" he raged. "Well, I have a good reason to leave then."

"Leave?" asked Ter'garv. "That's against all our orders, Baron. I…"

"Captain Wildstar, I will locate that child and return him to you. I swear it. I have children myself, and this is an outrage. Ter'garv, leave two squadrons dispersed here, but tell them to wait for special orders from me. If, that is, they can be trusted. In the meantime, Captain, I would advise you to stay away, but since I know you cannot, get in and get out. Other forces of ours may have been deployed closer to the planet than I was told. Be careful. I have no time to drink the Cup of Friendship with you, now. I don't know if I could keep such a vow. Let us hope that someday we do meet again, as friends. At any rate, I pray I have been able to help you. I admire you, Captain Derek Wildstar. You gave our forces a good fight."

"Thank you, Baron," said Derek. He saluted and said, "I hope we do meet again. As friends."

"I thank you," said Cha'rif.

"Venture, Nova, everybody, let's go," ordered Derek with a clap of his hands. "We have our jobs, and they have theirs."

* * *

Cha'rif insisted upon accompanying them to the doors. "Who is that?" asked Nova, pointing to a foreboding-looking drawing that now covered where the computer screen had been. 

"Lord Ekogaru, our god of war," said Cha'rif. We worship him as our Warbringer, and the one who brings victory when we have to fight. This hall is usually an officers' lounge, and we sometimes offer incense to him and the like here. I pray we do not have to invoke his name soon. I pray we are not ordered to fight you in a holy war."

"So do I," said Captain Wildstar.

* * *

Finally, all of the _Argo's_ crew and the two civilians they did rescue were back in their places on board the ship. Before the docking tunnel was separated, Duro's body, in an EDF space burial casket, was returned to the Rikashans with a small honor guard of Marines. The Rikashans took the casket, salutes were exchanged, and the dock tunnel and the _Argo's_ airlock hatch shut at the same time. 

"They can't totally disapprove of what they did back there," said Derek.

"Why?" asked Hemsford.

"You see what they did with Duro's body? They took him back like a returning hero, not someone who had violated orders. Do you think they can be trusted, Hemsford?"

"Between you and me, sir," said Hemsford. "I'd trust that Cha'rif guy about as far as I can throw him."

"Maybe he can be trusted…maybe he can't. If he's really going to honor his agreement, we'd better be on our way," said Wildstar.

At that, Wildstar just watched as the _B'eoneraze _slipped away. It rejoined its fleet, and soon, in just a few minutes, they were gone. Not a single ship had taken any aggressive action against the _Argo._

Derek Wildstar just shook his head. He was unsure of what to think at this point_. Maybe Cha'rif is another Desslok_, he thought. _Maybe not._

* * *

**IV. RENDEZVOUS**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**The Sigma Korolevi System**

**January 12, 2202**

**0043 Hours, space-time**

* * *

A while later, the newly refitted patrol cruiser _Danube_kept station with the _Argo_ over the bleak surface of the fourth planet of the Sigma Korolevi System. 

On board the _Argo_, Captain Wildstar stood and saluted in the lower fighter bay as the Medevac shuttle that had brought Captain Josiah and his staff aboard came to a stop on the hangar deck.

"Captain, I'd like to welcome you aboard the _Argo,_" said Wildstar after Josiah returned his salute. "Of course, you know Commander Venture and Commander Sandor. I trust you had a good trip?"

"Well, my crew was damn well surprised when I let them know how long our last test warp would be," chuckled Josiah. "Good thing we made it safely. Right now, with all the scuttlebutt, my crew's wondering when they're going to be at action stations. Bunch of green kids…they're scared out of their pants about all this."

"Well, as for the recent battles, there are some things I can tell you, and some things I can't," said Derek.

"Oh, there's some damn things I can tell you," chuckled Josiah. "Guess the Commander hasn't told you about the latest comedy, yet."

"We're supposed to hear from the Commander at 0700," said Wildstar. "We might hear about it then."

"No, you'll hear about it now. Or you will, soon. Got coded orders for you, right from Singleton's hands. Met him at Mars, and he was sweating more than usual," said Josiah as they walked along to the lift. "You two coming?" he said to Venture and Sandor.

"We have orders to, sir," said Venture.

"Okey-dokey. I take it we'll be in your cabin?" he asked, turning to Wildstar.

"We will, sir."

"Good. Make damn sure my niece serves the coffee. Right now, I could use some good, strong Goddamned Navy Black. And tell her to make it better than usual. I've been awake too damn long, worrying."

"About this mission, sir?"

"Yes, and about what's going on near Earth. Whole thing just cropped up tonight, probably while you were meeting with this enemy fellow. How'd that go, by the way?"

"I'll tell you up in my cabin, sir."

"Good, Wildstar. Smoking lamp's on, right?"

Derek nodded.

"Damn, I need a cigar, and I need it _now_."

* * *

A few minutes later, Captain Wildstar, Venture, and Sandor were sitting around the table in the Captain's quarters with Captain Hiram Josiah. As requested, Nova was cooking up the coffee. Back in uniform, she had also whipped up some sandwiches, knowing what all four men liked. At the moment, she was playing steward --and trying not to gag on her uncle's cigar smoke. 

"So, what's happened near Earth?" asked Derek.

"You know my wife?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, we've got a little problem," said Josiah. "Intelligence suspected Yvona and her cult were up to something. We thought it would be a terrorist attack on the Megalopolis, right? We had everything buttoned up, all docks at maximum security, and they were watching the Middle East, right? Guess where Yvona struck?"

"Where?"

"Vladivostok. The Fleet facility there? It was about a hundred of them, and they think fifty or so of them were Earth Defense, various scattered crewmen and officers and the like. Looks like they were planning this for a while. I'm told that at about 2100 last night, they broke into the main Dock facility, fought off a small guard, partly with help from the inside, and then they did something you people are familiar with, since you did it."

"What?" asked Derek, who think he knew what had happened. His stomach sank as he thought about it.

"They stole a ship. The _Jamaica-class_ main space battleship _Potemkin_, to be exact. Yvona and the ship's XO are in command, and in cahoots."

"What?" cried Nova. "Sir, with all respect, she couldn't pull off…."

"She could and she did," snapped Josiah. "They got away, shook loose the magnetic missiles they stuck on her hull, and got into orbit at 2130. They were targeted by four battle satellites, which they took out with a few nice main gun blasts. HQ said they knew what the hell they were doing. They must've read the notes on what you guys pulled last September," joked Josiah. "But then, they did something you didn't do."

"What?" asked Derek.

"They brought down two more battle satellites, fought off two flights of Cosmo Tigers from Great Lakes Space Naval Station, and then they turned around, hung in orbit, took off all overrides, and they attacked Chicago."

"They took off all overrides?" asked an aghast Sandor. "Sir, there's only one weapon they'd need to deactivate overrides on to power up in a hurry, although at great risk to themselves. In fact they'd probably blow up their ship doing that."

"Doing what?" asked Venture, who thought he knew.

"Wave motion gun?" whispered Derek.

Josiah just nodded. "Ground blast, right into the middle of the Loop. The estimated death toll is about one and a half million. Needless to say, no more planes or ships took off from Great Lakes after that. They blew apart the one frigate that did intercept them, and then they sent Singleton this crazy computerized message, complete with an animated scan of one of the witch's tracts, and then they warped away. Right out of Earth orbit, too. Another thing that'll supposedly destroy a ship…but they did it, and we can guess from the warp signature that they survived it, and also caused an earthquake in Minneapolis doing it, by the way. You know, the gravity wave just slammed right into Earth?"

"That's _horrible_!" cried Nova. "Is…Yvona…loose?"

"Yes. Right now, they're loose. After I drop off your guests at Pluto Base, I've got orders to find that ship and bring it down if I can, or, at least, let the Fleet know where it is. That's if it's in the solar system, of course. That's why I was given these orders, Captain," said Josiah, slapping down his envelope. "In here is a tape of Yvona's message, and orders to intercept and bring down the _Potemkin _should you encounter her. You are to act with "extreme prejudice", et cetera in an encounter with that space battleship. Same orders they gave Gideon when you flew the coop last year. Only now, you're playing the _Andromeda_," said Josiah. "Oh. Yes. Lieutenant Wildstar," said Josiah.

"Yessir?" asked a puzzled Nova.

"If you want them, here's new orders. The Commander's giving you a chance to bow out of this mission if you can't help bring down your…relative…your aunt, that is. If you accept these orders, pack up and come back to Earth with us. Do you accept these orders, Lieutenant?"

"Declined," said Nova a moment later. "My place is here, with the Star Force." _And with Derek,_ she added to herself.

"Good," said Josiah. "Don't look at me like that…they gave me the same spiel when I left. This may seem hard, but as far as I'm concerned, that crazy bat isn't my wife anymore."

"I don't consider her my aunt anymore, either," said Nova. "Especially…now…since she's not just the leader of a band of mutineers, but a known enemy to Earth."

"What about your day, Captain?" asked Josiah.

"The enemy commander gave us back two out of three of the people they were supposed to get," said Captain Wildstar. "He had some story about dissension in his ranks…one of them apparently took the third prisoner, a boy, for his purposes. The enemy commander is claiming the raid was done without his knowledge and consent, that he never heard of a commander named Gralnacz, that his people have no designs on Earth, and that he doesn't know what he's guarding in the Beta Valentis System."

"What'd you tell the SOB?"

"I told him that if he really meant it, he'd withdraw and let us get in and out of there to check the planet out. He said he'd do that, and find the boy and return him to us. He might. He might not. He claims his Empire holds half the Milky Way, up around the Sagittarius Arm, and that they're very powerful but peaceful."

"Believe him?" asked Josiah.

Derek shook his head. "I think his people are hostile to Earth in general. However, if his own little agenda will give us time to make this investigation without our being attacked, we'll take his offer, if it's a real offer, that is…and run with it. All we'll have to watch for is the _Potemkin_, if he's telling the truth. At any rate, I believe there's a couple who are both very anxious to get back home again. Nova, you and I will meet with our guests, with the Captain, of course, and tell them to be on their way."

"Yes, of course."

"Then we can consider this little gathering adjourned?" asked Josiah.

"Yessir," said Derek.

"Good. Damn cigar's gone out," said the old Captain. "Oh. Venture, Sandor, tag along if it's OK with your skipper, huh?"

* * *

"Thank you for your kind treatment, the good food, and the use of your VIP quarters," said Joshua Cortland as he shook hands with Captain Wildstar. 

The couple had been housed in the _Argo's_ VIP cabin, a comfortable, larger-than usual suite of two officers' staterooms set up as a den and a bedroom, with private bathroom facilities. To Derek and Nova's knowledge, this was the first time the special stateroom had ever actually been occupied during a cruise.

"You're welcome," said Captain Wildstar. "We were glad to accommodate you. Captain Josiah will be returning you home to Pluto Base aboard his cruiser, the _Danube_. In a few days, you both should be back home on Earth."

"Good," said Samantha Cortland. "I can't wait to get back to Chicago with Josh…I'm dying for a deep-dish pizza!" she cried. "I…What's wrong?" she asked.

"Uh…you'll be told later," said Josiah. "Earth's okay. There's…just been some trouble in the Midwest of North America; that's all. I'll explain it to you on the _Danube_before we warp. By the way, I take it you've been through one warp already?"

"Yes, with the Rikashans," said Samantha. "I was awake during the warp. It was a horrible experience. I felt like all my insides were going to come out and everything went _green_ with livid green streaks of light! For a minute, I thought I had died and gone to Hell in my sleep! I mean, all the stars were streaking green past my hands!"

"Different than our warps, it seems," said Sandor. "Wildstar, they must use some strange technology."

Derek nodded. "I wish there was more you could tell us, but there's no time."

"I'll debrief 'em, Captain," said Josiah.

"All right," said Derek. "Well, good luck, you two."

"And thanks for everything," said Samantha. "Thanks, Lieutenant Wildstar," said Samantha as she quickly hugged Nova. "You were so nice to us."

"I thought you deserved it, particularly after that ordeal you both went through," replied Nova.

On that note, the civilians walked out of their cabin and left their temporary home behind.

* * *

"Derek, I hope Uncle Hiram will be all right," said Nova as they stood together about a half hour later on the aft observation deck, watching the _Danube_ recede into deep space. 

"He knows what he's doing, just like we do," said Derek. "He'll pull through all right, even if he encounters Yvona. I understand the _Potemkin_ had no planes on board, either. At least she'll be a _bit _easier to catch."

"Thank the good Lord for that," smiled Nova. "Look…here's something we usually don't see from the outside," said Nova as she pointed at the dot that made up the _Danube_. "She just stopped. I think she's going to warp!"

Both of them looked on as the dot faded away in a flash of bright rainbow-streaked light.

"Beautiful," said Nova.

"She's on her way home. Something tells me they'll have a good trip."

"I wish we could have had more time with them, Derek. They needed time to be told that they'll be refugees when they get home, with Chicago destroyed. How could Yvona do such a horrible thing?"

"You said she was crazy."

"I didn't know she was _this_ crazy, Derek! Her and her sick cult…I hope the whole bunch of them are aboard that ship!"

"There's our mission," said Derek. "Aside from stopping that cult, we might be able to get there and back in peace…if it really isn't too dangerous, that is. Or should we tell Desslok we have to track down that ship, first?"

"Derek, we have our orders from the Commander," said Nova.

"But they've changed. We're to track down that ship, too. He gave us no priority as to what we're supposed to do. There's what happened to Newfoundland, and then there's Chicago. Which is the greater threat right now, Nova?"

"Derek, I think that's part of a Captain's job…figuring out these things. I know it's not easy, my darling. You've got such a weight on your shoulders right now. Is that why you took your coat off and threw it over the railing?"

Derek nodded. At that, Nova just ran over and gave him a big hug for a moment.

"Call me silly, but I'm hoping that maybe I'll get some kind of sign while we're here?" asked Derek.

"You called me silly when I wished on the Wishing Star of Voton," said Nova. "Hmmm. Matter of fact, look over there. See it? It's in a different part of the sky now…"

"Nova, you know that the Voton Star almost turned out to be the end of us," smiled Derek.

"Okay. Wish on a different one. Wish for a sign from Pellias or something."

Derek took a deep breath, but he closed his eyes and wished.

A moment later, the door for the observation deck whizzed open. "There you are!" screamed Doctor Sane. "Making out like you're in the back row at the movies or something!"

"We were sharing a wish, Doctor," sniffed Nova. "Besides."

"We received a message from the planet!" screeched Sane.

"Which planet?" asked Captain Wildstar as he grabbed his peacoat.

"The one we're heading for, you knucklehead! The girl says she wants to talk to _you!_"

"Boy, talk about fast service," said Captain Wildstar as he stuffed his ascot down.

"Nova, what is he talking about?" screamed Sane.

"Easy. I just got him to wish on a star for the first time, Doctor."

"_Ohhhhhh_," said Sane. "You two are impossible!"

"Sure you haven't been sampling your latest motion sickness remedy, Doc?" laughed the Captain.

"No comment," huffed Sane.

* * *

**V. ALISCEA'S REQUEST**

**Space Battleship _Argo_**

**The Sigma Korolevi System**

**January 12, 2202**

**0114 Hours, space-time**

* * *

Captain Wildstar arrived on the bridge a few minutes later. "Homer, is she waiting?" 

"Yes, but not on the usual system. She said, in a hard-to make out audio message, that the "psychic damper" near her planet is down for a bit, so she'll use "alternate means" to speak to us."

"What sort of means?" asked Nova.

"_What of means such as these?_" said a youngish girl's voice that came out of nowhere on the bridge.

Nova's eyes went wide. "Derek…that sounds like…Queen Starsha!"

"No…she's the voice I've been hearing in my head!" cried Rosstowski. "And in my dreams!"

"**_What?_**" said everyone else on the bridge.

"Mister Rosstowski, how come you didn't…?" began Derek.

"_Do not chide him, Captain Wildstar_," said the voice. "_No one would believe that I have been speaking to him. You do not understand **Shalinskar. **None of you do. Now that I have your hearing, let me introduce myself. Bear in mind I can only speak for a few minutes. For my mother and I, keeping our world together is enough._"

**Artwork: "Lady Aliscea" -Based upon original Yamato series artwork-computer-altered and generated by Frederick P. Kopetz**

A moment later, a blazingly bright pillar of light appeared beside Homer near the astro-compass.

He cried out in fear and surprise, but, a moment later, the blazing pillar faded into the spectral form of a very young woman in a short-sleeved black dress.

"Is there something wrong?" asked the young woman as she looked around the bridge.

"No offense, I hope," stammered Nova, "but I've been told I resemble certain people. If you can see me, Miss, uh…we're practically twins, except that your hair is a little longer than mine."

"Oh, I can see you, Mrs. Wildstar. No offense taken." said the young woman. Paul Rosstowski noticed (without any apparent shame) that the girl's dress was somewhat short, and that her legs and calves, bare in high lace-up sandals, were quite beautiful…not that the rest of her wasn't bad, either. "Paul, everyone else, I am _Lady Aliscea of Pellias_. I am the reason you are on this quest, so to speak."

"Lady Aliscea, I am…" began Derek.

"Captain Derek Wildstar," said Aliscea. "Your first name is Nova. You are Mark Venture. Your name is Stephen Sandor. Yours is Holly Parsons. Homer…Orion…Dash…Paul. I know all of you from afar. You could say I've become a fan of your exploits at a long distance."

"You sound a bit like someone we've met. Starsha of Iscandar," said Nova. "Are you the Queen of Pellias?"

"No, I am not. I do not have Starsha's political authority. I am one with less authority, perhaps, but far, far more power and potential. You could even say I am far more dangerous than Starsha."

"But you seem so…" gasped Venture, who was overwhelmed with thoughts of Trelaina.

"Young? I am. Younger than Trelaina by about a year, I think. I'm twenty in your reckoning."

"Aliscea," asked Derek. "What do you know about Gralnacz of Rikasha and Baron Anton Cha'rif of Rikasha?"

"Baron Cha'rif is a decent man, but he hides behind layers of deviousness not even known unto himself," said Aliscea. "On the other hand, Shardovan Gralnacz is _not_ decent, and he is _not_ from Rikasha! It pains me to say where he is from, even though I know that. He is not from Rikasha. He has, however, fooled some of them into believing he is a Prophet of their faith, just as your Aunt Yvona has deluded others, Nova."

"It pains _me_ to have it broadcast that a mass murderer is my aunt," said Nova. "Could you not mention it again?"

"I shall not. As for you, Captain Wildstar, do not give up this quest yet. My mother Astrena and I are exerting our powers to save lives on Pellias. The sooner that you and the Gamilons, despite their evils, arrive here, the better. Take advantage of the window Cha'rif has given you, but be wary! He is not the sole being interested in my homeworld of Pellias, towards which you are traveling. Gralnacz is not dead, nor is his Lord."

"Who is his Lord?" asked Captain Wildstar.

"A dark being whose name I dare not even pronounce!" snapped Aliscea. "He was mortal, once, but became something twisted and horrific. It is HE has caused Pellias to come here, HE who is the cause of your problems, and HE who incites the Rikashans and R'Khells to many evils. We are all trying to preserve lives, and to keep this…Dark Lord…from taking your whole galaxy!"

"Aliscea," asked Paul. "When we will meet again?"

"Soon, soon, my _shalinska_," said Aliscea in a heart-rending tone that made Venture want to scream, for that was the way Trelaina had spoken to him. "I have seen you and watched you for long from afar. Your love was wasted on she whom you once were married to; the one known as Clarissa. It shall not come to naught here, my Paul. We shall plight our troth soon, you and I. We will speak of this more, later, in a more appropriate place and time! Please come soon! _All_ of you are needed by my mother and I! We will help you if we can! And beware of the Rikashans, and of your own people on the _Potemkin!_ They have many wiles…"

With those words, Aliscea disappeared.

"What a lassie," said Orion.

"I hope she helps us," said Dash.

"She will," said Paul. "She will help us. I know it."

"Wildstar?" asked Venture.

"Venture…Nova…my mind is made up, thanks to Aliscea's advice. That takes care of some of my questions. Mark, lay in a course for the Dalkrandia System. That's two hundred lightyears away, and it'll get us one step closer to Pellias. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can have answers to all of this. Homer, try to get in touch with Desslok; let him know we're running ahead because of the intelligence we've received, and then notify the Commander."

"Yessir," said Homer.

"Venture, can we warp by 0800?" asked Captain Wildstar.

"We can if I have the assistance of Miss Parsons, Nova and IQ-9."

"You've got them," said Wildstar. Derek went to his post. "Attention, all hands," he said over the ship's comm speakers. "We will be making our next warp at 0800. We will be going to the Dalkrandia System, taking more scans, and then continuing our mission to Pellias, the planet from which the messages have come from, and the world that is at the center of the disturbance. I will need the cooperation of every member of the Star Force. This may be our toughest mission yet."

_Derek, you just might be right, _thought Venture with his head bowed. Beneath his closed eyes, tears were forming.

He missed Trelaina more than ever.

* * *

**END.**


End file.
